Taking revenge
by Tsiri351
Summary: After what happened at the warehouse Maura left without a word, leaving Jane to deal with all the turmoil created. When Maura returns, will the Jane she loves still be there, or will she be an empty husk - all her emotions ripped away?
1. Chapter 1

It's been 3 months since things changed within the Homicide department of the BPD; 3 months since the friendly, comfortable and efficient atmosphere transformed into this sullen, tense charade of professionalism. What before was a room full of friendly banter and a feeling of unity has now become one of uneasy silence and isolation.

Jane's desk is a cluttered mess piled high with paperwork and files. During the day, she sits there and stares out of the window overlooking the street below, letting her mind pull her into a dark place that has become very familiar over the past 2 months. Frost and Korsak have stopped trying to make her smile or even join in their conversations, having resorted to throwing concerned glances her way. They continue, however, to do their duty as her partners and friends by deflecting the curiosity and pity the others in the building feel away from Jane; she really doesn't need to deal with any more questions about her ordeal, or any of the fake, meaningless offers of support from people with whom she's barely ever spoken. They see Jane sitting there, confined to desk duty as she is, but looking into her eyes they can see she's not really present… That she hasn't been present for some time now.

All the detectives and officers in the building know what Jane has been through; they're all a big family after all (and who wouldn't notice that the usually energetic Angela had deflated and lost much of her endearing energy – they had, of course, all enquired as to the cause). Even Frankie, always eager to join the detectives in running down leads and gathering intel in the latest murder investigation, has become stoic and withdrawn, preferring to stay close to the precinct in case his sister should need him. Not that Jane would ever ask him, or anyone else, for help. But he would be there, just in case…

It has been 3 months since the incident at the warehouse, 3 months since Maura left the city without a word, 2 months and 2 weeks since Doyle escaped custody and 2 months and 13 days since the problems really started for Jane.

How did Doyle's men know when he was being moved to a more secure facility? How did they know the exact route the transport vehicle would be taking, and the time of the move? Jane had to deal with all of these questions and more as Internal Affairs caught her in their crosshairs, believing her to be responsible for the leak in an attempt to win back the affections of her friend and daughter of the mob boss Paddy Doyle. During this time Jane was, as procedure dictates, suspended for the duration of the investigation; she was questioned relentlessly for hours, answering to all of the accusations that were thrown her way. Through all of this Jane felt more lonely than she had in a very long time – since Maura had entered her life. She hardly slept, and had little appetite for food, and after 2 weeks all the stress and strain could easily be seen in her pale, drawn face and gaunt body. What hurt her most, though, was Maura's departure: she had left 3 days after the warehouse incident, after saying such terrible things to Jane. She left Jane alone, and that was the worst thing of all. The IA grilled Jane and pounded her, trying to break her down and admit that she was the mole, that she had provided information to Doyle's men. She was no such thing, and in the end there wasn't enough evidence to charge her of any sort of misconduct, both during the fateful shooting at the warehouse and the subsequent events and escape.

2 months ago Jane was given back her badge and gun… 2 months ago, Doyle decided to get his revenge… And 2 months ago exactly, the hell really began for Jane…


	2. Chapter 2

**Since I forgot to do this in the first chapter… Disclaimer: I own nothing, and all characters may be attributed to their rightful creators. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews and follows; they're all very much appreciated! This is my first time writing a story of any kind, so I hope that I'll be able to meet your expectations J Any constructive criticism is welcome, and please do let me know what works and what doesn't! Please note, too, the change in tense from present (1****st**** chapter) to past in this chapter… Many websites say readers find the use of present tense off-putting and irritating, and I'd like to know what people think so that I can improve J I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

"Good morning, Jane…"

Frost stopped by Jane's desk, juggling 3 cups of coffee in hand. Repeating his unanswered greeting he again got only silence in response; she didn't even acknowledge that he was there, which was highly unusual especially when the fragrance of coffee was so enticingly close to Jane's nose. Frost quickly shot a glance in Korsak's direction and saw the deep concern he felt for his friend reflected in the sergeant's eyes.

_"What's going on?" _Frost mouthed, to which he got merely a stiff-shouldered shrug in return. Korsak continued to watch Jane, an unreadable expression on his face and his eyes shining oddly in the light. _When will this woman_ (his daughter in so many ways, he acknowledged) _ever get a break?_ He thought to himself. _It's really not fair!_

Jane sat staring at her desktop calendar, her eyes unfocused and unblinking… oblivious to the world around her and to the silent examination by her partner and mentor. Frost gingerly placed her coffee in front of her, expecting at least a small reaction, but he got nothing: her gaze didn't even flicker when the cup was put down within her line of sight. Frost's fear for his partner's state of mind became leaden in his stomach, and he quickly turned away from his seemingly comatose partner with a suspiciously watery sniff and a swipe at his eyes.

Suddenly, Korsak stood up from his chair, his eyes – as they had been for the past week – fixed in Jane's direction. Frost swivelled back towards her and watched as she moved – finally. He opened his mouth to make a witty comment, with a smile prepared on his face, in an attempt to return a small semblance of normalcy to this cursed situation that hadn't been anything near normal in at least 3 months. However, his smile faltered and then faded away completely as Jane turned around without a word or even a glance at the two anxious friends begging for her attention. Their worry only deepened further as they watched her slumped shoulders and tense body shuffle towards the door and out of the room. They both found themselves wondering if there was any rope long enough to pull her from the hole she had been steadily disappearing into.

"What the hell was that, Korsak? I thought she was getting better, dammit! She even smiled at me yesterday!" Frost said agitatedly. This situation had gotten to them all, but none more so than it had Jane. She had told them only the bare minimum about what had happened during the 2 weeks she had been missing, so they couldn't even begin to guess the details of what she had been through.

"I really have no idea, Frost, no idea at all," Korsak mumbled, his eyes still fixed on the door as if trying to follow Jane out of the room. "When I got here this morning she was already sitting there and staring at her desk, and the only reaction I got out of her was when I touched her shoulder… She flinched away from me… Flinched, Frost! Like she was waiting for me to hit her! I would never hurt her! NEVER!"

"Man, she shouldn't even be back here; she needs help, and she can't get it surrounded by murders and people's whispers! She was released from the hospital 2 weeks ago, for fuck's sake! Why would the LT clear her for desk duty?" Frost's face was flushed as he talked forcefully, keeping his voice quiet just in case Jane was still near the door. She really didn't need any more stress to add to her already unbearable load.

"Because here she's surrounded by the people who care for her…" came a tired voice from behind the pair. They both turned around to face Lieutenant Cavanaugh, waiting for him to explain his decision. They watched as a series of emotions crossed his rugged, weary face – sadness, pain, resignation. "At home, she was alone and she refused to see anyone… She locked herself in her apartment for 5 days without a word to her family. Angela – Mrs Rizzoli – came to me, she begged me, wanting me to do something to help her daughter; she didn't want to lose Jane, although I'm still not convinced that she hasn't already. I've never seen a woman look more distraught, more broken than she did last week. Vince, you know Mrs Rizzoli; you know how strong she is. Well, last week I couldn't see any of her strength… Like it had already been used up! So I agreed to Jane coming back here, not only so that she could have something to do, but so that we can keep an eye on her… I'm really worried about her, guys, and I wasn't this worried even after the whole Hoyt fiasco, all 3 times that he got to her! I want to help, but if Jane doesn't let us in, we'd better be prepared for the worst because that's where we're headed right now…"

Frost angrily slammed his still-full coffee cup onto his table, splashing all the papers in the vicinity. He was so damned angry! Angry at Maura for up and leaving Jane when she needed her best friend the most, angry at himself for not having his partner's back and preventing all of this from happening, angry at Doyle for being such a monster… Mostly, though, he was angry at the world for allowing this to happen to such an amazing person. Life is just so God-damned unfair!

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI RIRIRIRIRI

Jane gazed into the mirror apathetically. She took in her skeletal features, still unrecovered from the weight loss brought on by 2 weeks of starvation. Below her eyes were two deep purple bruised crescents – the result of weeks of interrupted, fitful sleep showing a constant stream of nightmares. Waking up saved her from the terrors of her subconscious mind but it also exposed her to the equally-disturbing terrors of her memories…

_She had been walking Jo late on a Friday, a time that used to be associated with dinner and a movie at Maura's house. They'd sit on the couch, a comfortable companionship to help them both wind down after a long and stressful week. Jane remembers that one time when–_

_That good memory was suddenly pushed aside as the current situation took its place. She hadn't seen Maura for a month, and although she was sad about that, anger was the most prominent emotion she felt. After all they had been through, after all the times they had saved each other from harm and heartbreak, this was what it had come to: she had chosen her "father" over Jane – a mob boss and cold-hearted murderer over her best friend…_

_As Jane returned home from her walk, she tiredly pulled out her key and directed it towards her apartment door's keyhole. The door clicked open. On reflex she reached for her left hip, searching for her gun; she had left it inside... She knows now that she should have waited for backup – she should have learned her lesson from what happened with Hoyt. But her fatigued mind had long given up on rational thought, crowded as it was by thoughts of Maura and "what ifs", and she slowly pushed the door open and crept inside... And that was the last time she had felt in control of her life, before it all spiralled downwards and her journey through the darkness of the abyss began…_

Her eyes were completely dry and empty as she floated back into the present. This person in the mirror wasn't Jane Rizzoli – this was a stranger wearing her face as a mask. And even this mask was an imperfect rendition of the original: it was thinner, paler, and disfigured. She lifted her hand to her expressionless face and traced the scar that began next to her left eye and extended jaggedly down to her jaw; a few millimetres to the right and her eye would have been unsalvageable. Even now, though, that eye was a black pit, filled with a swirling pain that blinded her to everything good around her. She was changed, and the pink partially-healed scar was just a small indication of the alterations hidden within.

Without warning Jane lashed out at the mirror, her clenched fist shattering the glass and the image of her unchanging expression. She slowly backed away and sank to the floor, her bloody and limp hand hanging forgotten by her side. And still she stared straight ahead, her gaze unseeing…

**Alright, so that's another chapter! I know it's still a little boring, but I just wanted to set the scene… Details of Jane's ordeal, and Maura's return, will be dealt with soon! I tried to make this chapter longer, but I'm still new to this so I promise to improve in the future! I really hope you've enjoyed it thus far and that you'll bear with me while I find my legs… Or fingers in this case J Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Firstly, thank you so, so much for all the feedback and votes of confidence J I really enjoyed reading your thoughts of the chapter and apprehension about the future… It's really great knowing that my story has managed to capture your imagination! If you'd like me to answer any questions directly, please do let me know in your reviews and I'll get back to you. Just a quick warning: I rated this story "M" not for sexual situations (for now, although there will be Rizzles later), but rather for graphic descriptions, violence, and use of mind-altering substances… It's been dark so far, and will continue to become darker, so I apologise if anyone is averse to such things; I just feel that many issues are dealt with too frivolously in the show… There is hope, however! Through all life's struggles it's hope that keeps us going J I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

"What did you do, Jane?!" Frankie shouted as he rushed into the bathroom. After Frost's angry outburst in the squad room, which he had heard from his position beside the elevator, Frankie had decided to stay close to Jane in case she needed some help. And that was obviously the right decision as he heard a loud crash from within the bathroom.

He came to a quick stop, surveying the scene before him, as he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach to join Jane on the floor. She was curled into a quivering ball on the ground, her bleeding hand cradled close to her chest as though she was trying to protect it from further harm; around her there were shards of the mirror, and her sweat-drenched clothes were the perfect adhesive surface for them, as was her hair.

Frankie took all of this in within only seconds, and he stilled his mind as he crouched down next to Jane – slowly, as though he was approaching a cornered animal. He reached his hand outwards and placed it gently onto Jane's shoulder, preparing to have her flinch away. To his surprise, and heartbreak, she lifted her confused, terrified eyes to meet his. Her face was drenched in both tears and mucus, and her whimpers were wheezing from her open mouth.

"What did you do, sis?" repeated Frankie, with a soft and soothing voice. He got onto both knees, unmindful of the glass crunching beneath them, and wrapped both of his arms around the quivering mass on the ground. He wasn't there to protect his sister when she was taken, but he'd be damned if he wasn't there for her now, helping her to recover.

Again, Jane surprised him by answering his question: "I… Uh… I d-don't know, F-Frankie," she managed to whisper around the keening sounds issuing from her throat. Suddenly, she sat up and buried her face into Frankie's neck, something she had never done before, as though trying to hide herself from the world – Jane had never hid from anything in her life; that she should start now was a testament as to the enormity of the damage that had been done.

"Please take me home, Frankie; I just want to go home," she said quietly.

"Of course, sis, I'll just let Ma–"

"NO, no don't tell Ma! I just want to be alone, Frankie! Please…"

"I won't tell her now, Janie, but I'm gonna tell her later… I know she gets overbearing sometimes, ok all the time, but she loves you, sis… We all love you, and we just wanna help, you know? You gotta let us help…"

"Alright," Jane finally manages after a minute of silence at Frankie's pleas. Her eyes though, her expressive eyes, tell a completely different story: she wants to be alone… And she would find a way to get the space she felt necessary.

With an arm around her shoulder and another around her waist, Frankie hoisted his sister up and moved towards the door. As he removed one arm from Jane in order to pull the handle, Jane pushed away from him and continued into the corridor. Frankie shook his head, thinking _she's so damn stubborn_! As he exited the bathroom he noticed that Jane had already fled most of the way down the hallway, and he hurried to catch up. If she didn't want his physical support, she'd still get the support of having his presence and help near.

No one had noticed the pair walking towards the elevator and exiting the building, for which Frankie was thankful; he knew his sister hated when people saw her as less than the perfect detective. Jane, meanwhile, had yanked the passenger door of her car open and sank into the seat.

Since her mind had returned from the stupor it had been in before she shattered the mirror, her emotions had been in absolute turmoil: she flitted from one feeling to another within seconds. Confusion, terror, apprehension, panic – her brain couldn't decide what it was feeling, so instead it chose to bombard her with all the emotions at once. And that left Jane paralysed, unsure what to do. This wasn't the first time that she couldn't remember a period of time since she was released from captivity; she knew that was a bad sign, maybe a side effect of the drugs they had given her during her ordeal, and afterwards at the hospital.

Since Jane's rational brain was having such problems with reality, her reptile brain was making itself known: she found herself shying away from contact with others and longed to escape and lick her wounds; her basic survival instincts put her in a constant state of alertness and arousal. Maybe the blackouts were her brain's way of resting, since not even sleep could save her from the memories of what had happened during those 2 weeks. That's why she hadn't told anyone about them. And she definitely hadn't told anyone about the flashbacks…

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI

_"Well, well, you really fucked up this time, Jane," came Doyle's voice from in front of Jane's TV. Jane quickly rushed towards the drawer where she kept both her gun and cellphone and yanked it open. It was empty._

_"You think I'm stupid, Jane?" Doyle had turned his head in her direction, a smirk decorating his still-pale and lined face._

_'When you don't have any real power in a situation, bravado usually helps', Jane thought to herself before saying, "Actually, yes, I do. All the law enforcement agencies in this city are looking for you, Doyle. They probably already know you're here!" Jane knew her boasting was empty. Meeting Paddy Doyle's cool gaze, she felt the first stirrings of real fear. Help wasn't coming, she knew, and she was in trouble._

_"You shot me, Jane, your best friend's father. You–"_

_"You aren't her father, asshole! She already has a father, and a mother!"_

_"My, but aren't you aggressive today?" Doyle said in a light, but razor-edged, voice. Jane found herself growing angrier by the second, although that anger was kept in check by the equally growing feeling of fear. She kept quiet, and listened as Doyle continued._

_"You shot me for protecting my daughter, and for what: that FBI prick? I keep tabs on you, Jane, and I know you got… Intimate with the agent. So not only did you betray me, the person that has protected Maura for her whole life, but you betrayed Maura too. And you've put her in danger by revealing our relation; that I can't forgive."_

_"We had the situation in hand, Doyle, and then you came along and messed things up. But still, even after you shot Dean I wouldn't have shot you… But then you pointed your gun in our direction and I made the call that was drilled into me at the academy: protect your partner; it's a split-second decision, and it was the right one! I tried to explain that to Maura, but she just left! I've given her the space she needs, although I've checked up on her a couple of times to make sure she's safe." Jane said all of this with a level voice; she'd been in enough of such situations to know to keep calm. What had happened after she had shot Maura's da– sperm donor, had hurt Jane terribly. She truly believed that her decision had been the right one, and she had never dreamed that Maura would choose Doyle's side – the same man who had kidnapped her, held her at gunpoint; hell, the man who gave her up as a baby, choosing his "career" over his flesh-and-blood!_

_After Maura left, Jane found herself struggling through the days… And drinking herself through the nights. She was filled with self-doubt and an overwhelming loss. She loved Maura. And not the platonic love that one best friend has for another… She LOVED Maura. But she would never ruin the most perfect friendship she had ever had, although it seemed she already had._

_"Regardless of your intentions, Detective, the fact remains that you hurt her and endangered her life. And you hurt me, Jane, and by hurting me you hurt my friends… And they want your blood. So, really, you can consider this killing two birds with one stone."_

_Jane swivelled around as she heard a rustling behind her, but she was too slow. A resounding thud sounded in the room, and everything faded from her sight…" _

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI

That was what Jane remembered of that night, the blackness that enveloped her after being cracked over the head with the butt of Doyle's henchman's gun lasting well into the following day when she finally, although not blessedly, woke up…

"We're here, sis," said Frankie as he pulled into a spot in front of Jane's building. "Let me help you get up to your place."

Jane knew that arguing wouldn't make Frankie do any good, and was present enough in mind to realise that letting her brother help would make him go away faster. They made it up the stairs of her building, walking slowly – always keeping Jane's injured, fragile state in mind. She knew that Frankie noticed her flinch every time her clothes rubbed against her skin; that he could see the pain that was a constant in her present life.

Jane hadn't told anyone about the full extent of her injuries, and after she left the ICU she rarely consented to seeing any visitors. They were all very distressed by her isolation, but knew Jane well enough to know that going against her wishes would do more harm than good. So they let her heal at her own pace, and were there for her as she walked out of the hospital after being discharged; they were ready to band together around their friend and be the crutches that she needed to recover fully. They tried… They really did, but Jane pushed them away any chance she got. That hurt, and they became more worried every day they saw her growing more pale and lifeless. So they resolved just to be there, ready for when Jane would ask for their help.

She was pulled from her musings when the click of the lock signalled that Frankie had opened the door of her apartment. "Let me go in first and make sure everything is clear." No one was taking any chances with Jane's safety. After a few minutes, he came back to fetch his sister: "It's clear."

Jane walked straight towards the couch and dropped down into it, sighing as Frankie joined her after fetching a beer for himself and some water for Jane. She steeled herself for small-talk, and deflections from serious topics and information, prepared to act the part of the healing victim. Once he saw that she was fine – well, as fine as she could be – he would leave her, and go update his mother on Jane's condition. They'd examine her behaviour and analyse all her actions, trying to understand her state of mind and how better they could be there for her.

And Jane would finally be left alone…

* * *

**So, that's that! Her first flashback wasn't so exciting but you can't know where you're going unless you know where you started J Future chapters will deal with everything she's been through and everything she's currently going through… And Maura will be back soon! With her current mindset, Jane wants to hide herself from everyone; the loss of control that she felt at Doyle's hands has her wanting to gain complete control of her recovery. Everyone wants to help, but Jane can't see that willingly giving others a hold on her is not the same thing as the forceful taking of control she experienced. But as we all know, Angela and most of the people in Jane's life are perseverant… Just how far will Jane go to get the distance she needs? Stay tuned to find out ;) I hope you enjoyed that! Please let me know what you think, and also what you expect to see in the future… It's interesting to know if it'll be the same as what I have in mind! Thanks again!**


	4. Chapter 4

**It seems I'm still struggling a bit with the chapter length, and I hope that this chapter is a step in the right direction; I know it gets frustrating to read for 2 minutes and then come to the end J Things will start to pick up now, and this chapter deals with the feelings of the other people in Jane's life! Maura also makes an appearance; will she be returning soon? Read on and find out!**

* * *

It had been 30 minutes since Jane and Frankie arrived at Jane's apartment and sat on the lumpy, well-used couch. Frankie had gone first to the bathroom, bringing with him the always-stocked first aid kit; of course his stubborn sister had refused to go to the hospital, so he hoped the damage was minor enough for him to deal with. Jane sat silently as her brother used alcohol wipes to clean her hand (thankfully, there was no embedded glass), not even wincing when the abrasive substance made contact with her open wounds. Some plasters and bandage were applied, all without a single word spoken between the siblings. Finally done, with the medical equipment returned to their place in preparation for future use, Frankie turned on the TV, finding it already on the sports channel, and turned the volume down to provide a soothing murmur in the background – breaking the silence that had so far been oppressive. Jane watched as he lifted the beer bottle towards his lips and took a tiny sip. One would think that he was savouring the taste, but she knew that he was just trying to prolong his stay. "Thanks," she whispered, finally looking down at her injured hand, to which Frankie nodded in response.

Frankie could feel his sister's intense gaze upon him, and knew she wanted him to leave, but he stubbornly remained sitting on the couch. He had briefly checked the score of the latest baseball game as he turned on the TV – he is a Rizzoli, after all – but now only pretended to be watching; out of the corner of his eye he was examining Jane, waiting to see if she would finally open up to him. She had taken a single sip of water when he had handed it to her but it now sat forgotten on the table, the water dripping down and creating a watermark (the coasters that Maura had brought when Jane still considered this place a home were out of the brunette's reach, and she had neither the energy nor the inclination to retrieve and use one). _Maura would be really angry_, Jane mused briefly, before turning her glare back to her brother. _Just go away, Frankie!_

"So…" Frankie began, "Jo Friday's doing really well with Ma. She's treating her better than she treated us when we were kids!" He turned to Jane and gave her a smile, hoping to get one in return; just because he hoped it would happen, didn't mean that he wasn't astonished when it did. His spirits lifted slightly and he found himself continuing: "She's probably gained 10kg, what with Ma feeding her lasagne and peanuts… You're gonna have to step up your game if you wanna win Jo over again! Maybe it'll give you a chance to learn how to cook, sis!"

Jane's smile had been a reflex, since she had always smiled when her brother was around; they had always been really close, and she loved him very much. But the various itching, healing wounds all over her body were a constant reminder of what had happened to her, and she couldn't find it within herself to manage more than that perfunctory smile, acknowledging Frankie's attempt at lightening the mood. When your view of life is distorted by a pair of dark, black glasses even the brightest light will seem dim. She was just so tired!

"I can see you've been following Jo's lead and eating all of Ma's food, Frankie. You're getting chubby," Jane responded half-heartedly. Even at the bleakest of times, she couldn't pass up a chance at insulting her brother.

"I'm just big-boned, sis! What's your excuse?" Frankie retaliated, the Rizzoli sibling rivalry flaring up within him. For a few moments, things seemed almost normal; he turned towards the sports action and re-checked the score. "Seriously, guys, the ball isn't that hard to hit despite what you obviously think!"

"It's just because you haven't been sitting in front of the TV and cheering them on, bro," Jane said quietly, as she started to relax at the familiarity of the situation. _Maybe it __is__ better to have people around,_ she found herself thinking. Sitting with her brother and watching sports – the sheer normalcy of this behaviour – was having a good effect on Jane, and Frankie inwardly cheered at this small measure of success.

"Nah, I think they'd still be losing," Frankie snickered as the friendly banter pulled Jane out of the quiet state she'd been in all day… For the past 2 weeks, actually. He was still stung that she had refused to let him see her while she was in the hospital, but the respect he felt for her prevented him from going against her wishes even if it would have made him feel better.

"That beer must taste disgusting by now, fatso," the detective remarked. Frankie stopped for a moment in order to think of an adequately insulting comeback, and grinned in triumph as it came to him. He opened his mouth and turned towards his sister, ready to deliver his blow… And then stopped.

Jane's head was tilted slightly backwards, her eyes closed and mouth a little open, and her breathing had taken on a slow, deep character. She was asleep. He took the opportunity to examine her face properly, and noticed how – for the first time since the warehouse – she actually looked to be at peace. The wrinkles lining her face when she was awake disappeared as the tension seeped from her body; the tightness around her mouth and eyes relaxed. She appeared nearly normal, and Frankie might have believed all of the events up until now to be a nightmare if it weren't for that scar on her cheek and the dark circles under her eyes.

He got up quietly and walked towards her, leaning over to pick her up gently. He made his way into her bedroom and placed her slowly onto her bed, kissing her softly as he did so. "We share the same genes, Rolly," Frankie whispered into her ear, smiling at his perceived victory over his sister. Jane's only response was a soft snore, causing her brother's grin to widen even more. _Now to update Ma,_ Frankie thought with a sigh. He glanced at Jane one more time before leaving her, and locked the apartment door behind himself as he started the trip back to his car and then to his mother…

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI

Angela Rizzoli had had a very tough 3 months.

It all started with that God-forsaken warehouse incident. Jane hadn't told her the exact details of what exactly had happened, but she is a mother – and a Rizzoli at that! So she did her investigating (asking everyone who visited the cafeteria at the station what they knew), and got the story from various perspectives. She understood both women's point of view but she knew one thing for sure: her daughters were the most hard-headed women she had ever met (Jane both figuratively and literally… Her head bore the brunt of many of her trouble-making childhood endeavours)!

She tried to remain a passive bystander in the days that followed the incident; she really couldn't be expected to take sides, and no one but Jane (please refer to the hard-headed remark above) really expected her to. So she remained at Maura's guesthouse and had 2 willing ears ready to listen to her girls' complaints… It's truly is a shame that they didn't use them! For three days Angela tried to engage them in conversation, with her well-refined subtlety (well, Angela believes she was being subtle!), but both remained in a stony silence. Angela would see them both at work, but not before nor afterwards; they weren't only avoiding each other, it seemed, but everything that had any tie to the other woman. Stubborn girls!

And still, Angela thought that the whole thing would blow over and that they would quickly go back to normal. Although she wasn't sure about Maura's life before the Rizzolis entered it, she could confidently say that she had never seen Jane happier than when her (former?) best friend was around. They complemented each other in every way! And if Angela went with her gut instinct – one of her many gifts – she'd say that they both wanted more than just friendship, not that they'd ever admit to that (seriously, did Angela not raise Jane with a backbone?). But 3 days later, Maura disappeared from Jane's life although not without leaving Angela a note…

It was late on the evening of the 3rd day that Angela arrived home to an empty house and a lonely Bass. On the kitchen table, next to the spinach leaves Maura had washed for her tortoise's dinner, was a small piece of paper. Angela approached it with some trepidation; she knew things wouldn't be quite as simple as she had thought.

_Angela, I had to get away for some time to think a few things through. I'm sorry to leave like this, but I feel that I needed to. Thank you for being the mother I always wanted. Please feel free to stay in the main house, and please look after Bass – he gets lonely without human interaction._

_With love always_

_Maura Isles_

And then things went downhill from there.

For the next month Jane spiralled into a depression the likes of which Angela had never seen before: work took over her life, and she left little time for sleep or any other human necessity (like eating). She started speaking to her mother again, although not very much; Jane wouldn't tell her, but Angela suspected that she'd spend her nights at home drinking. The whole thing had hit her really hard.

And then she was taken… For 2 weeks Angela lived in a state of fear, apprehension and despair; Frost, Korsak, Frankie and even Tommy spent all their hours chasing clues as to Jane's whereabouts. It had felt as if they all had been in a state of limbo. It wasn't their detective skills that brought her back though… She was dropped on the doorstep of Maura's house. Angela will never forget the sight that greeted her when she opened the door…

_Angela was sitting on Maura's couch staring at the blank TV; in the kitchen Frost, Korsak and Frankie were gathered around the table discussing their next steps in the search for Jane. Tommy had gone to take Jo Friday for a walk, to clear his head. Angela's reverie was disturbed by a heavy knocking on the door. "I'll get it!" she called out, even though she knew no one would have made a move anyway._

_She opened the door…_

_And there on the step was a crumpled, bloody mess; all that could be seen was the white rag she was bundled in and the filthy, matted her on what would look like a face if it wasn't covered in so much red. Angela covered her mouth with both hands as the acidic bile struggled to burst free. A loud sob managed to escape from her, although she was still frozen in place – in absolute shock._

_Frankie came rushing from the kitchen, worried at what had caused his strong mother to cry. As his eyes widened in dawning horror, he too froze for a second. "Frost, Korsak! It's Jane! Call 911!" He threw himself beside her and quickly reached for her pulse, breathing a sigh of short-lived relief at finding one (albeit weak and thready)._

_"They're on their way, Frankie! Oh my god…" Frost took a deep breath to build his courage, before asking the crucial question: "Is she alive?" he asked in a whisper. "Yeah, but it looks bad, man, really bad."_

_Korsak's quiet "shit" announced his arrival and perusal of the scene. He stood next to Angela and put his arm around her, pulling her into his side. She burst into tears as he led her towards the couch, knowing the 2 most important men in Jane's life would do whatever was necessary to keep her alive._

_Outside, they just sat close to her; they were afraid to pull the sheet away from her body, thinking it would open any wounds she had beneath. But they had to check for any more serious injuries and stop the bleeding if they could. Just then they heard the siren of the ambulance and were pushed out of the way by EMTs a few moments later. Their view of Jane was completely obstructed, and they found themselves praying to whichever god would listen that Jane would be fine…"_

Angela heard a pounding at the front door of Maura's house, where she had been feeding Bass some strawberries and restocking the fridge. She remained in the guest house, more comfortable being there than in Maura's personal space, but aired out the main house every day. Before she could answer the door, it was flung open by Frankie (really, you'd think her children would have more manners by now) who stomped to the fridge in search of beer. Only after twisting of the cap and taking a gulp did he turn to his mother: "Hi ma."

"Oh, now you remember me? I thought you were busy making love with your beer!"

"Geez, ma, I was just thirsty! Give a guy a break!"

"Hmph," Angela huffed exasperatedly, "what are you doing here anyway, Frankie?"

"Just an update on Jane, ma… She looks bad, really bad." He was quickly reminded of the night they found her, when he had said the same phrase. Shaking himself so that he wouldn't get lost in the memories, he continued, "She shuts everyone out. I heard Frost and Korsak saying that she hadn't said a single word until I found her on the floor of the ladies' bathroom at the BPD! She broke the mirror and cut her hand, ma!" Frankie was starting to get flustered, and Angela had sunken into one of the barstools at the kitchen table. "I don't know what we can do when she doesn't let us in, ma…"

Angela had questioned herself repeatedly over the past two months, wondering whether it was Jane's upbringing that had made her so closed and reluctant to seek help. But she had quickly dismissed those doubts when she realised that this was just her daughter's character… She must take after her father. "All we can do is just be there for her, Frankie, and hope she realises she doesn't need to do this alone…"

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI

An ocean and a continent away, Maura was opening a sterile needle and attaching it to a syringe. She turned around and knelt down on a hard-packed dirt floor, her face turned towards the little Sudanese boy sitting wide-eyed before her. She smiled in an attempt to calm him down, and he returned the smile timidly; no one likes needles. "This will hurt a little, but then you'll be safe from lots of diseases."

Pointing at his arm, Maura indicated that he should pull up his sleeve and expose his shoulder. He quickly complied, aware of the many little eyes of the children lined up behind him awaiting the same fate. _I will be brave, and at least the lady is nice_ he thought to himself. Maura saw the resolve enter the boy's eyes, and got to work delivering the vaccine…

6 hours later, Maura collapsed onto a lumpy – but thankfully bed-bug free – mattress within her tent. She was stationed at a refugee camp in Southern Sudan, together with several other volunteers from 'Medicins Sans Frontiers'. The civil war that had ravaged the country had displaced millions of people and Maura and her colleagues were just trying to make their lives a little easier by providing some much-needed and essential health care.

When she had left Boston 2 months ago she had done so with the intention of escaping the turmoil of her mind and friendship with Jane. When Jane shot her father, it had felt like a shot through the centre of Maura's carefully structured life. Everything she knew was torn asunder, it seemed, as she struggled to reconcile the image of the mob murderer with a man who had been to every major event of her life. When she had shouted at Jane, she had truly felt betrayed by her – first and foremost because she had slept with and confided in Agent Dean (her reaction wasn't out of jealousy, she had to remind herself), and because she may have changed Maura's life irrevocably. Not only may she have lost the only link to her biological mother, the link between herself and her biological father would be revealed to the world. And so, angry and confused, she took a leave of absence from her position as Chief M.E. of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts and set out to find comfort in familiarity. And so here she was, ensconced within a camp surrounded by danger and disease.

After 2 months of working nonstop for 15 hours of the day and then sleeping sparingly at night, she had managed to gather her thoughts almost completely. She could now admit that her reaction to Jane's shooting of her… Father… and subsequent shunning of their friendship was a gross over-reaction on her part. The anger she had felt at her friend had recently turned to shame and a measure of guilt, which is why she now found herself making preparations to return home and attempt to right what had become so wrong.

On many occasions she had found herself sitting at her computer, thinking of what to write in an email addressed to Jane; and many times she stopped herself from making contact, convinced that she had no right to disturb Jane after she had made such a mess of things and then just left. She wanted to do this correctly, and that meant apologising face-to-face. She had never had many friends before she met Jane, and had definitely never had a best friend, and so she was wholly unprepared and inexperienced in how to mend a damaged friendship; her lack of social experience is the reason she had left in the first place, instead of staying and dealing with things head on. As a child she had spent much of her time alone, and this had led her to believe that being alone was the only way to deal with problems. When she met the Rizzolis, she hadn't just gained a friend… She had gained a family: her mother Angela, her father Korsak, her brothers Frankie and Frost (and Tommy, when he wasn't hitting on her) and her… sister… Jane. She now knew that having a family meant trusting them to help and support you, and that she no longer needed to do it by herself. It was this faith that kept her going when her mind was crowded with doubt and sadness, and it was her love for them that created this yearning to return. The familiarity of being within 'Doctors Without Borders" was no longer enough to replace what she had found back in Boston – a home, and people who loved her, and whom she loved back. And Jane, always Jane.

But first, she had a few obligations to attend to in the camp – administering the latest pneumococcal and influenzae vaccinations to the thousands of children in the camp. They had gotten through more than three quarters of them, and the programme was expected to finish within the next 2 days. Within 3 days, she would be back in Boston… Back with her family and hopefully, able to win back the trust of the woman she loved…

"Hey, love, come and get some dinner!" an Australian accent called from her tent flap. "It's going to get cold!"

Maura sighed as she rose stiffly from her bed, the day's work having caught up with her… "I'm coming, Ian."

* * *

**So that's another one done, and getting closer to a reunion! I hope the length was more satisfactory this time, and I'll be trying to keep it that way J I hope you're all still enjoying this, and that you're as excited as I am to find out more ;) Please let me know if there's anything you'd like improved or changed, and I'll do my best to accommodate! The next chapter will provide the 2nd of Jane's flashbacks and will deal with some of the things that were done with her... I'll get it up as soon as I can! And no, Viagra probably won't make it happen faster ;p**


	5. Chapter 5

**Good day to everyone! Thank you again for your reviews and for following this story J The last chapter finally introduced Maura into the story, but also a rather unpleasant element of her past: Ian (****_shudder_****). This story is definitely going to be Rizzles, though, so don't worry about him! He was included just as a point of reference. Also, you may find that Jane will make a few decisions with which you may not agree; an irrational and tormented mind breeds irrational behaviour… Please do enjoy!**

* * *

It had been an hour since Frankie had lain Jane down in her bed; she had been snoring softly ever since, the first two stages of sleep taking her to the threshold of the dream world. Around her the room was quiet, only the faint sounds of the street below filtering through the window. The curtains were open, providing the only source of light. Everything seemed peaceful.

Jane's eyelids had been still up until now, but their increasingly frequent flickering indicated her entry into REM sleep: the sleep in which dreams – and nightmares – were created…

_Jane's senses returned to her one by one…_

_First, and it was definitely the most noticeable, was the throbbing pain emanating from the back of her head and ping-ponging back and forth within her skull. 'A hangover has never felt this bad', she groggily thought to herself in the seconds that it took for her to remember the events leading up to this bout of unconsciousness and subsequent nauseating return to consciousness._

_Smell: that came next, and it was one she used to associate with the happiness of childhood camping trips in the State Forest about a two-hour drive from home. The damp, woody smell that once brought such good memories now only served to worsen her need to vomit, and amplified the drumming in her head. She could almost taste the dampness of the room she was in, and the fresh unpolluted air that could only be found outside areas of human habitation._

_As the woolly sensation cleared from her ears, she was greeted with the sound of uninterrupted nature – a rarity when living in a noisy city like Boston, where the sounds of nature are tempered by the man-made blaring noises of modern daily life. The chirping of birds and rustling of leaves in the wind had soothed Jane during those family holidays; currently, however, they had taken on an ominous tone… The squawking of the wildlife served to confirm that she was probably isolated and far from civilisation; the leaves sounded like shards of broken glass clashing together in the breeze._

_All of this had created an image within Jane's mind even before opening her eyes; the return of her sight served to confirm her blind assessment. She appeared to be in a large, damp room. Water was dripping from the ceilings, through the wooden rafters that held it up. The walls were the ugly greenish-grey colour of wet, dirty concrete and there were no windows to let in any light. Only a small naked lightbulb dangling from the roof allowed Jane to take in these details dimly; details she wished had remained unknown as her night vision adapted to the low lighting._

_She was propped up in a wooden chair placed in the middle of the room, her arms and legs secured tightly with a coarse rope. Beneath her was a cracked concrete floor, strewn with what Jane disgustedly surmised were rat droppings. Directly opposite was a steel door, its handle removed on this side. The bleakness of the room seeped into Jane's pores, causing a chill to shiver through her body. The confusing maelstrom of anger and self-deprecation that had plagued her for the past month quieted and bowed down in response to the steadily growing fear creeping through her…_

_She became aware of the sound of metal clanging and scraping against metal – a door was being opened somewhere near. She steeled herself in apprehension, waiting for the footsteps that she could hear outside her room to stop by the door. The screeching of the metal catch was eerily loud, amplified by the concrete walls and Jane's own tremulous emotions. The door swung open slowly, and Paddy Doyle stepped into the room._

_"Ah, Jane, you're awake! I hope you find the accommodations to your liking. They ran out of rooms in town, so we decided to bring you to our own little holiday home out in the wilderness. It's very intimate and private – perfect for what we have planned." Doyle's voice was full of authority, in spite of the lines of pain that could be seen on his face. He walked slowly towards Jane, favouring his right leg and left arm. 'Good,' Jane thought to herself, 'I hope he's suffering.'_

_Out loud, Jane asked, "Why are you doing this? You know I was just doing my job, and you know that I would never willingly hurt Maura! I lo- She's my best friend! The shit that went down was just because you were there! How did you know about Flynn anyway?"_

_"I told you, Detective, I've had my eyes on you both. I was there to help my daughter, since you were too busy screwing that FBI prick to care that she wasn't in the right state of mind to be doing an undercover operation – which definitely isn't in her job description anyway – after her mother had just been hit by a car. You fucked up, Jane, and that's absolutely unacceptable. Oh, and best friend? With the speed Maura left town, I don't think that really applies anymore. All of your actions have consequences, and now you're going to reap the rewards. My men have wanted to give you a… piece of their minds for a long time. I really love all-inclusive package deals: I can teach you a lesson and improve morale all at the same time! Don't you think that's wonderful, Detective?"_

_Jane's heart was just about to jump out of her chest and make a dash for the door, but she knew that she had to appear strong in front of this murderer; in the wild, only the strong survive. So, with a bravado she most certainly didn't feel, Jane replied, "Yeah, I just LOVE those deals! Especially when they include breakfast and a spa day. I hope they didn't rip you off, Doyle!"_

_His response was a deep-bellied guffaw, followed by a wince and shuddering inhalation. "You got balls, I'll give you that. Too bad we'll have to cut them off." With that, two huge men came into the room – one holding chains and the other a gleaming knife (more of a small sword, really). Jane swallowed the ball that had obstructed her throat at the sight; she really had nothing she could say, even if she could speak past the choking panic that was overtaking her._

_She hadn't meant to hurt Maura, and had lived the past month without her as though in a trance. She buried herself in work, trying to forget the shocked look of betrayal and hatred that her best friend had pinned her with in the warehouse; trying to forget the feeling of complete loss upon hearing from her mother that Maura had left. Doyle was right: she HAD screwed up. And now she accepted and prepared for the punishment she was to receive. 'I deserve it,' she thought, 'for ruining the most important thing in my life.'_

_"Do your worst, Doyle," Jane spat, a look of misplaced determination on her face. Doyle nodded at his men, and they menacingly approached Jane. Unibrow – the man with the knife – quickly and efficiently cut the ropes binding her arms and legs, 'accidentally' knicking and cutting her in the process. Jane started to trash and struggle in a futile attempt to get free, but she was easily subdued. Even if her arms weren't leaden from hours of immobility, she would never have had a chance against such brutal strength. Red-head then stopped before her holding the thick, rusted chains and yanked her arms forward; he quickly wrapped the chain tightly around her wrists, and threw the other end over the wooden beam overhead. He pulled and, with a yelp of pain, Jane was suspended in the air – her feet dangling centimetres off the ground._

_Swinging back and forth, Jane struggled to draw in breath and remain level-headed as the realisation of what was in store for her hooked its vile claws into her soul. Unibrow again drew nearer with the glinting knife, and placed the tip by the collar of her shirt. "You're a little overdressed," he drawled with a Bostonian accent; "Let me fix that for you," he continued with a leer. One by one the buttons of her shirt popped off, much like her shoulders were threatening to do as her struggles set her swinging back and forth; he then proceeded to cut the material completely away and got to work on her slacks, until she was left gasping and thrashing in only her bra and panties. She had ranted and shouted at the man while he was doing all of this, but the only effect was to put a smile on the faces of all the men in the room. He rubbed his crotch suggestively and then ran the knife's tip up her inner thigh until he reached the edge of her underwear; he slipped the tip beneath it, dangerously close to her genitals, and made a few slices before the cotton material was floating to the floor. Efficiently doing the same with her bra, the burly and visibly aroused man stepped back to admire his handiwork while licking his lips provocatively._

_By this time, Jane was incoherent: she was shaking, and tears were streaming from her reddened eyes. She remained silent, though; she'd be damned if she gave them the pleasure of hearing her plead and cry! "You can consider this your spa treatment, Detective," Doyle smirked from his position by the door. He had managed to procure a leather bullwhip during Jane's trussing up, and he handed it to the red-haired man who proceeded to a position behind Jane – out of her sight. The sound of leather breaking the sound barrier was the only warning she got before a white-hot pain branded itself into her back…_

Jane screamed awake from her nightmare – her memory – and clutched her arms to her chest, as though trying to preserve her modesty. She was a sobbing, blubbering mess as she looked frantically around the room, trying to find out where she was. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she realised she was in her own room in her apartment, but it did little to calm her racing heart and terrified thoughts. It had felt so real, as though she was experiencing it all again!

She jumped from the bed and ran to her bathroom, barely reaching the toilet in time before expelling the minimal contents of her stomach. Her hair stuck to her forehead, which was slick with sweat, and goosebumps covered her trembling body. The sour taste in her mouth made her gag again as she stumbled towards the sink to rinse it out and splash her face with ice-cold water. She didn't recognise herself in the mirror.

"I can't stay here," she said to the stranger staring back at her, "I have to go; I can't stay here! They won't understand! I don't want them to understand! I need to go! I want to be alone… I just want to be alone…" The last part was whispered, a sense of desolation spreading through her. She dejectedly re-entered her bedroom, and pulled a duffel bag from under her bed; she flung a few clothes into it, and zipped it up with finality. She was leaving.

An hour later and she was on the road heading out of Boston, away from the people who cared but that she couldn't stand to see. Enough people had seen her stripped naked – of her dignity and strength; her image of self lying shattered in a cabin somewhere in the woods. She had left a short note for whoever would eventually break into her apartment – she had changed the locks and given the keys to no one – saying just that she needed to go, and that they shouldn't look for her. She needed to be alone, to put herself back together…

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI

"Ian, for the last time: you cannot change my mind! As soon as we finish with these vaccinations, I am going back to Boston!" Maura said exasperatedly and with not a small measure of anger.

"Maura, we both know you came looking for me! Why else would you come to Africa? I'm the love of your life, sweetheart; we can't let that dyke Rizzoli come between us…"

Maura had become very still as Ian trailed off, a hard glint entering her eyes. "What did you call her?"

"What? Maura, I–"

"I asked: What. Did. You. Call. Her?"

"That's what she is, Maura! She might try to hide the way she looks at you, but you know as well as I know that she doesn't want you as her _friend_," Ian exclaims with a disdainful sneer.

Maura leaped to her feet and towered over a seated Ian, the fire at her back forming a fearsome halo around her. "Have you ever thought you- you- caveman, that maybe I don't see her as just my friend either? What we were living was an immature fairytale, Ian, and you've broken my heart and left me alone to pick up the pieces too many times for there to ever be a happy ending! I don't want to be alone anymore, and in Boston – my home – I have a family that loves me and that I love unconditionally! And a friend who I hope will forgive me for the poor decisions that I've made, so that we can spend our whole lives together! Maybe you'll find something like that one day, Ian, but it will most assuredly NOT be with me!" Ian looked up wide-eyed, struck speechless for a few moments. His hurt pride and 'masculinity' wouldn't let him take this from a woman, though. He too stood up facing Maura, although the fire at her back caused his eyes to burn and water.

"It was never a fairytale, _sweetheart_, it was just something to pass the time. And if I had known then that you were a filthy lesbian, I would never had lowered myself to your level." Just as Ian turned around to walk away, leaving a furious Maura behind, he was met with a big, beefy fist in his face. With an audible "crack" and a squeak Ian crumpled to the ground. Maura met the amused smiling eyes of Francois, a huge – but kind and soft – man from South Africa. "That's no way to talk to a lady, bru," he smirked downwards. Turning his gaze back to Maura's grateful eyes, he continued, "And you're definitely a lady. Jane is a lucky woman. Now let's go and get some dessert before we freeze our asses off, and then we can get some rest for an early start tomorrow."

"Thank you, Dr Vryburg." "Please, it's Francois." "Well, thank you Francois; your fist is bigger than mine, thankfully, so it probably hurt more!" And for that night, Maura put the guilt and regret aside and enjoyed the company of her new and understanding friend; she was happy, and she finally felt ready to return to where she belonged.

A week later, Maura had abandoned her khaki shorts and T-shirt for the comfort of a dress and heeled sandals. She stood waiting in a line in the airport terminal, and with the words "Flight A231 to Boston is now boarding" she felt the stirrings of excitement begin in the depths of her stomach. She was going home…

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI

"Any word, Frankie?" asked an exhausted Frost as he, Frankie and Korsak settled in the darkened BRIC.

"No, man, nothing. Have you managed to trace her phone or credit cards?"

"You know your sister, bro: she's too smart to be found when she doesn't want to be." They had spent the better part of 5 days trying to find out where Jane had gone, after having broken into her apartment and finding the note 2 days after she had left. They had flown into a panic, calling contacts and anyone they thought might know where Jane had gone; 5 days later and they were no closer to discovering her whereabouts. Angela was distraught, and Korsak spent many hours trying to comfort and assure her.

"She'll come back when she's ready, guys," Korsak said resignedly. "I know Jane."

"You used to know Jane, Korsak. She hasn't been that person for some time." Frankie mumbled.

"She'll be fine." Now if only they could find it within themselves to believe Korsak's words.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed the flashback, and that Maura and Ian's interaction was satisfying J Maura is going home, and maybe the process of recovery can finally begin! Unfortunately, I'm going overseas from tomorrow for the next two weeks and so will probably not be able to update… I'm truly very sorry for that, and just hope that I'll be able to win you back when I update in December and continue the story. I may be able to update once more before I leave, and will try my best to find some WiFi in Europe! Thank you for reading J**


	6. Chapter 6

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Thank you all again for the great responses to this story! I love to read about people's ideas and responses to each chapter, and all of you who have reviewed and followed this fanfic make it worthwhile J I hope you continue to enjoy this story! I managed to get this chapter out before leaving, just to keep everyone enticed… Hopefully you'll continue to read this story when I return. Again, I apologise for the upcoming period of "radio silence". For now though, please read on!

The room was small and dirty; unwashed clothes, bottles and cans littered the stained and threadbare carpet. In one corner was an unmade single bed, the rumpled and unclean sheets strewn haphazardly over a thin base. In the other corner were the shower, toilet and basin – no wall to separate them from the living area and the kitchen, which could be found diagonally across from it. So far, there was no sign of life in this dump misleadingly called an apartment. Only a tiny television sitting in the fourth corner provided light: the overhead light fixtures had long since been broken or stolen.

In front of the TV lay a tiny couch, an unidentified mass huddled in its uncomfortable embrace. Suddenly, a small red glow flared to life, and was quickly followed by a steady stream of smoke. Jane leaned over very slightly to tap the ash from her cigarette into the overflowing ashtray on the rickety, pock-marked side table; on and around it were numerous cigarette boxes and empty bottles of whiskey and rum.

This was how Jane had been living for the past week, ever since rolling into Chicago nearly a full day after having left from Boston; that had been 8 days ago, and she had spent the past 7 days living in a drunken stupor.

When she had left home, she had collected all the cash she had on hand; since she had always been careful with her money, preferring to build up her bank savings rather than spend indiscriminately, the cash didn't amount to very much. She couldn't use her credit card, though, because Frost would be onto her within seconds and then they'd be coming personally to retrieve her. That was how she now found herself in a seedy, health law-violating apartment in a dangerous and filthy part of the city. Well, she wasn't there to take in the sights!

She had arrived in Chicago with the intention of taking some time alone to think and get herself in order before returning – healed – to her family. It didn't take long for her to realise that thinking led to remembering, and remembering led to panic and fear. She had already spent many sleepless nights cowering under the covers, and had found that alcohol provided great relief during the month before her abduction when she had been trying to forget Maura. And so she began to self-medicate again, buying whatever cheap liquor she could from the small, dark grocery store on the corner of her street; the hookers out front had assured her that there was no cheaper alcohol to be found.

As her self-destruction grew in momentum, she found herself picking up a habit she had abandoned when she had entered the academy (although she had enjoyed them as a rebellious teen): smoking. As she had bought that first pack in so many years, she could almost hear Maura's warning in her head: 'Latest statistics from the CDC show that tobacco smoking is the top cause of preventable death in the US, causing 470000 deaths every year. Smoking has been linked to increased risks of dying from heart disease, high blood pressure, cancer, lung dis…' Jane quickly silenced her traitorous mind's thoughts of Maura, and proceeded to buy another packet of menthols, so that she wouldn't run out before she visited the store again tomorrow and stocked up.

And so here she was, smoking and drinking on her couch. She had begun to smell by now, having last taken a shower 2 days ago when she was sober enough to turn on the tap faucet. The odour of stale sweat, smoke and alcohol mingled together in the enclosed space of her room to create a gut-churning stench, which Jane seemed completely oblivious to.

During the weeks that she had spent at the hospital, and the 2 weeks after that, she had regained some of the weight lost during her ordeal: she had lost nearly 30 kilograms during her captivity, but had reached the lower limit of her ideal BMI range after being fed in the hospital and then following the medically-prescribed diet designed for weight gain in sufferers of starvation and anorexia nervosa. All of that progress had begun to reverse itself, as she hardly ever found time to eat in amongst her continuous drinking. It was the only way she knew to rid herself of the memories…

A limp, broken body swung back and forth in the slight breeze originating from the open door; there really was no need to keep it locked anymore. It had been… hours? Days? Weeks?... since she had been taken, and time had become a never-ending loop of pain and humiliation.

The ground around her was soiled with her excrement, although it was already about 2 days old – by this point there was nothing left for her body to void, having been starved and dehydrated. The absolute horror and shame she felt as she lost control of her bodily functions after passing out from the pain the first time would forever remain in her mind; the laughter of Doyle's men only served to increase her despair. They had been in and out constantly, never the same men more than once, and had taken their turns at torturing Jane… Was she really Jane anymore? They had degraded her to a hanging piece of meat: an animal carcass in the butcher's shop, just waiting to be carved up and sold.

The first time they had used the leather whip, she had been wholly unprepared for the stinging pain. She tried to hold in her cries, but by the 8th lash she had been screaming out and shaking violently, both from the burning across her back and from the anticipation for more. By the end of that first day her back, buttocks and thighs had become a grizzly mess of minced flesh and blood. Jane had lost consciousness a number of times, but she was constantly aware of Doyle's piercing and judging gaze from his seat by the door; judge and jury, he watched as his men efficiently – and mostly impersonally – carried out the punishment he saw fit.

All her wounds were doused with salt water every night, after Jane was unceremoniously released from the chains binding her wrists. They left her in a quivering heap for the night, her agonised groans following them from the room.

During the next 2 days, Jane became acquainted with Doyle's men's joy in using knives – they liked to get close and dirty when they were working. Strip by strip, they flayed the skin of her abdomen as Jane hung tethered from the roof; she tried to retch but even that was taken from her, as the arms stretched above her head restricted the movements of her chest and abdominal muscles. For hours they played like those little boys who loved to torture insects and little animals, except this time the animal was much larger and much more vocal in her pain. They watched with interest as the skin on the soles of her feet curled and blackened under the flame of their lighters; they listened with rapture to the sound of their fists tenderising the flesh of their human boxing bag.

By the 3rd day, Jane was ready to die…

She knew that she couldn't take any more physical abuse, although she took small comfort in the fact that they hadn't tried to sexually violate her… 'Yet', she thought. When Doyle stepped into the room on the morning of the 4th day, she could barely roll onto her side in order to face the door. With the little energy she had left to her, she mumbled to him: "I- I've learned my l-lesson, Doyle… K-Kill me." She didn't add a 'please' to the end of her sentence, and her delirious mind found a hysterical humour in that… Maura would definitely have added a 'please'.

Doyle just stood for a moment and watched the bloody mess on the floor, a tiny glimmer of respect in his eyes for the stoicism of the woman before him. It was soon replaced by anger and a calculating glint as he remembered the purpose of this whole situation: retribution, and an affirmation of his strength as leader of the Irish mob in Boston. "I won't be killing you, Jane, just making you wish you could die. I was

in the hospital for 3 weeks, Detective, because of you, and I'm still in constant pain. I may never gain full functionality in my arm again, and you may have chased my daughter out of both of our lives. You deserve everything you're getting. I'm going to give your body a short break, though… Can't have you dying when we've only just begun our little rehabilitation programme." It was then that Jane became aware of the needle he had in his hand; he lifted it up, admiring its contents. "This is LSD, Detective. Such a wonderful substance, with so many potential health uses – treatment for pain, alcoholism, anxiety, spiritual anguish. For our purposes though, the effects will be slightly more… Unpleasant. I hear a good trip is absolutely life-changing; in your current situation, though, a bad trip is much more likely… And I hear those are terrifying."

Jane tried to back away as Doyle limped and shuffled nearer, but her body had reached its limit and refused to cooperate. She flopped onto her back, trying to prepare herself for what was to come… But there's no way to prepare for the unknown. "I'm going to fuck with your mind a bit, Detective. Maybe it'll help you see what you did wrong and how you can improve. Consider this a favour." He quickly bent down and jabbed the needle into her abdomen – subcutaneous administration – and depressed the plunger. "Enjoy yourself, Jane... It'll be a trip worth remembering!"

Jane sluggishly came back to the present. The alcohol seemed to be working wonders, as the emotions of absolute terror and fear were dulled nearly completely by the full bottle of whiskey she had just downed. She shuffled into a slightly more comfortable position and extracted a cigarette from its pack. "Maybe I should get something a little stronger," she slurred herself, lighting the stick between her lips. She inhaled deeply and then blew out a stream of smoke while settling back into the couch, almost giddy with the anticipation of a nightmare-free night of unconsciousness…

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI

Maura was glad to be home, finally!

She smiled at the taxi driver as she handed him a $20 dollar note and exited the car to retrieve her suitcase from the trunk, only to find the kind bearded man had already done so. She thanked him again and turned around to face her home. It looked as it had 3 months ago when she had left in such a hurry. She took in the well-tended front lawn and the clean windows – it seems Angela had honoured Maura by keeping an eye on her house… Her home, now that it had been filled by family, friendship and love.

Maura hardly even noticed the time go by during her 9-hour flight: she was so excited to be returning home that any boredom she may have experienced normally was overshadowed by happiness and a lightness she hadn't felt for many months… Since she had left. She was professionally satisfied with what she had managed to achieve during her stint in Africa, but was emotionally bereft for much of the time. On the plane, she thought (not for the first time since that fateful warehouse incident) about her behaviour towards Jane and built up her resolve to apologise and hopefully win back the most meaningful relationship in her life. She had been raised by parents who were often unavailable, and had taught herself to deal with conflict and problems passively and by running… Not anymore! She was ready to fight for Jane, and would do nearly anything to regain her trust and friendship… And maybe more, someday!

...

**So I finally found a computer to upload this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Greetings from home, finally! I'm sorry for the long wait, and hope to make up for it J It was a pretty hectic holiday that I still need to recover from, but well worth it! I hope you've all been well, and that you can get back into this story without too much trouble! On to the next chapter…**

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_It had been 6 days – 6 long, excruciating days – since she had been stolen from her life… The spirit with which she had entered her captivity was now all but completely broken, lying amongst the filth of her small concrete prison; filth that covered and cocooned Jane, leaching her of dignity as much as Doyle and his men's actions had._

_Doyle had promised her a physical recovery period after the beatings and floggings she had received at the hands of his cronies; he kept to that promise – being the man of honour he believed himself to be – focusing instead on breaking down her mind and any inner strength she had left. This method of torture required a more delicate and skilled touch, and so Doyle played a more active role in its execution. He was a master at finding character flaws and weaknesses, and then exploiting them to pull people apart from within._

_It was difficult for Jane to remember the details of how exactly this part of her torment began: her fractured mind struggled to create coherent thoughts, and to distinguish a painful reality from an equally painful and terrifying fantasy. Doyle walking in holding a needle—bath salts—struggling weakly to get away—his smug voice—laughter as she started to thrash—spiders, huge spiders—eyes everywhere… This is what Jane can remember of the first time that she was injected with bath salts (mephedrone, as Doyle had patronisingly explained); her battered body had been no match for Doyle or his men as they held her down and inserted a long, dirty needle into her arm ('a dirty needle creates an abscess,' he had told her with a self-satisfied smile, 'which makes it much easier to get the drug into you in the future.') And so began a day filled with hallucinations and delusions – a day of nightmares and terrors against which Jane had no defence._

_"And all you need is 5mg a pop," Doyle had continued, happy with the low cost of his chosen psychological torture, "so who even needs movies nowadays!" When the syringe had been emptied and Jane had stopped struggling, Doyle and his men left the room confident that Jane could continue her own torture with no outside interference._

_That's when the spiders had first come…_

_Huge spiders oozed from the walls and plopped wetly to the floor, their eyes fixed on their prey sitting in the middle of the room; their razor-sharp fangs dripped poisonous venom as their spindly, hairy legs carried them slowly closer to Jane. Wide-eyed and terrified she looked around frantically, searching for an opening to get away from these enormous monsters. Her fingers scrabbled for purchase on the floor as she tried to push herself to her feet – her wounded and weak legs refused to hold her up, even as her adrenaline caused her heart rate to reach new heights and sweat to stream from her every pore._

_She felt a tickle on her hand and looked down quickly. She screamed. Thousands of tiny spiders were covering her body with every breath, and she tried desperately to shake them off. When that didn't seem to work, she quickly resorted to using the only weapon against them that she could find: her nails. 2 hours later the spiders had disappeared, leaving behind only a silk cocoon: Jane – her eyes were empty and her sanity fragile. For 2 days she lay shaking and screaming, groaning and whimpering; for 2 days her anxiety and paranoia grew and mutated, becoming a huge writhing mass that stretched her skin to nearly the point of bursting._

_And now, on day 6, Doyle had returned to see his handiwork._

_What he saw was exactly what he had hoped for: a broken and quaking mess, scared to even open her eyes for fear of further horrific sights. Her rampant imagination was more than capable of compensating for her self-imposed blindness, however, and not even in the once-safe haven of her mind could she find any comfort or promise of hope. "You see, Jane, the consequences that betrayal has. Normally, with my own men, I prefer a good old-fashioned beating sometimes followed by a quick execution; physical wounds heal, and they can get back to work after a few weeks or months. For you, though, I prefer something more lasting: something to remind you constantly of what you did to both my daughter and myself. That's why I chose mephedrone, Detective. You were in the drug unit, so you should know just how special a drug it is – completely different from the usual, boring cocaine, amphetamines or LSD. The effects of bath salts are much more long-lasting, and the trips you experience are not the satisfying euphoric highs you would get with the other drugs. Oh no, bath salts grab hold of all your fears, doubts and darkest thoughts; they surround you and consume you for days, weeks and sometimes months after just a single dose. Now isn't that amazing, Jane?"_

_On the ground Jane remain unmoving, her horrified dilated gaze fixed on a sight only she was privy to. Her arms, legs and stomach were a bloody mess of deep gouges and scratches, all self-inflicted. Her breaths came in short gasps, as they had been since the drug first took effect, and the coarse tremor wracking her body gave the impression of an animal in its death throes. Around her mouth was dried and crusted blood, having seeped out after she had bitten her tongue while screaming herself hoarse. Her ribs and other bones stood in stark relief as the adrenaline and cortisol had ravaged her body in an attempt to fuel her fight or flight response._

_"Let's give you another dose, shall we?" Doyle asked as he produced the dirty needle and syringe…_

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI

She had decided to take a walk to try and clear her head. It was 10pm, and the cold breeze permeating through her shirt hinted at a cold winter on its way. She entered a darkened park, the lights within it broken and looking twisted in the moon's illumination. The rustling trees threw down their yellowing leaves as she passed them by, and they swirled around her as the breeze picked them up. This particular park was notoriously known as a hub of gang activity; this thought hardly penetrated through her muddled mind. All she wanted was to walk…

Around her the trees loomed even larger, as their outlines grew even starker against a black background; the branches reached their spindly fingers towards her, as the leaves attacked her from every direction. The breeze took on a keening, screaming character and the uneven ground tried to trip her up. Nature was conspiring against her!

Jane quickly whipped around when she heard a twig snap behind her, and she was confronted by a towering mammoth of a man holding a large glinting knife. His malicious blue eyes pierced her, and his bone-white teeth were bared in a leering sneer. With a show of skill he flipped his knife into the air and caught it by its handle as it stabbed downwards, trying to intimidate the shivering Jane even more. He advanced towards her, preparing himself to give chase when his victim tried to run…

But Jane was done running.

With a vicious snarl Jane pounced towards the behemoth, her hands clenched into white fists. She was slightly surprised when her punch landed without any resistance from the man, but her surprise was quickly drowned out by her aggression. He fell to the ground, the knife thrown from his grasp, and Jane fell on top of him. Over and over again she punched and scratched, until her perceived attacker lost consciousness. She felt victorious, and finally in control! She rose from the bloody pile on the ground and smiled in triumph: '_Not so weak now, am I Doyle?!' _With a spring in her step, she turned towards her apartment…

It was 4 hours later when a young woman set out on her early morning jog through the park. She had used this route for the past year, ever since starting her new job at a local accounting firm. She loved this time: the sun having barely risen above the horizon and lighting the colourful foliage and well-trodden path. It was a time during which she could relax and unwind, while working off the calories of last night's deep fried chicken dinner. Something was different on the path that morning, however, and she slowed down in order to inspect the heap lying in her way. She drew closer to the small pile cautiously, and screamed as she rolled a body over. It was a tiny boy, no older than 15, beaten to a bloody pulp; his torn and dirty clothes suggested he was one of the vagrant inhabitants of the park. His thin, fragile body lay curled upon itself and she could just see a small pocket knife clutched tightly in one fist. Exhaling shakily, and hoping for the best, the woman placed 2 fingers on his throat in search for his carotid pulse; she half-sobbed when she found one, albeit weak. Frantically pulling her cellphone from her running pouch, she dialled 911 and held the boy's hand while waiting for help to arrive…

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI

In the time it had taken for Maura to calm down a little, Frost had called various people to join them at Maura's home. There was no easy way to explain what had happened to Jane, and everyone needed to be there as the details were given to the person closest to this whole situation – the person that certain people couldn't help but hold at least slightly responsible for what had happened.

They were all seated in the lounge, a solemn and (for Maura) ominous silence dominating in the room. In various positions around the room were Frost, Korsak, Frankie, Tommy and Angela. Angela had hesitantly sat next to Maura, trying to convey some strength to the woman who looked completely shattered. For a few weeks, Angela had blamed Maura for Jane's ordeal – she had developed a pure and unadulterated hatred for the woman who she felt had betrayed her daughter. Despite many believing that Angela was a simple woman, however, the opposite was true: after much thinking, rationalising and reflecting, the anger she felt towards Maura was shifted towards her father. She stopped thinking that Maura and her father were one and the same, and was able to put the blame where it was rightfully, she believed, due. Maura had become as much a daughter to her as Jane was, and so Angela had looked at the entire situation from Maura's perspective, trying to fathom what had been going through her mind and what had driven her to leave. Angela believed that her second daughter may have been able to handle herself better in certain respects, but she was most definitely not at fault for what Paddy Doyle had done.

Korsak, being a rational and experienced detective, had also come to the same conclusions as Angela: though Maura had caused Jane great emotional pain by leaving suddenly, she could not be held responsible for the actions of a ruthless and cold-blooded mob boss. He cared for Maura as he would his own child, as he did Jane, and felt a deep sadness now as he looked upon the stricken doctor sitting on her couch.

Frost too had begun to re-evaluate the anger he felt, especially after seeing the genuinely shocked look on Maura's face. As he watched the self-blame, guilt and regret settle on Maura's face, he couldn't help but feel sympathetic for the woman whose whole world would soon be torn down around her.

"So are you happy, Maura?" Frankie snarled from the corner of the room, keeping his distance from the medical examiner, "did you teach Jane her lesson? Did you _SHOW_ her? Huh? Did you, Maura?!" The doctor drew back into herself as Frankie shouted at her, and she fought against the tears pooling in her eyes. She opened and closed her mouth, not knowing how to respond, her emotions in turmoil.

"That's enough, Frankie," Korsak spoke quietly, tiredly. Maura looked at him in desperation, needing to know what exactly had happened. "What happened?" she whispered with a broken voice, "Please, what happened?" Everyone in the room stilled completely as the question they felt too weak to answer was voiced. Korsak took the initiative of answering: "Frost told you that Jane was taken, right?" he asked. Receiving a small nod from Maura, he continued, "She was abducted by your father, about a month after you… left. We didn't even know she was gone until 2 days later, because we had become quite used to Jane just disappearing for lengths of time to get her thoughts in order… She changed when you left, doc." Korsak stopped for a moment, giving Maura a chance to wipe her eyes and dripping nose. "We found a note in her apartment, from Doyle; it said that Jane needed to be taught a lesson, one that she would remember for the rest of her life. We looked for her for 2 weeks, doc – we hardly ate or slept, and we spent every single moment trying to track her and Doyle down. We didn't find her." At this Maura gasps: "I thought you said she was alive! Frost said–"

"We didn't find her, Maura; she was delivered to us on your doorstep. She was—she was broken." Korsak stopped to compose himself, wiping at the watery glint in his eyes. "I thought she was dead, I thought—" Korsak stopped again, unable to continue.

"We don't actually know what exactly he did to her, Maura," Frost took over. "It was nearly impossible to get her to speak to us at all. She spent a month in the hospital, where they treated her for starvation and various other wounds; we don't even know the extent of those! You're listed as her next of kin, doc, and she refused to tell anyone else!" By now, Angela was sobbing softly next to a stiff and trembling Maura, while tears streamed from the eyes of Jane's brothers. "She went home 2 weeks ago, but we got her a desk job back at work a week ago so that she could have some form of human interaction seeing as she turned away all visitors at her apartment. It's been bad, doc…"

They all sat quietly for a few minutes, everyone lost in thought. Maura was in shock, her brilliant mind unable to fully grasp what had been said. She needed time to put her thoughts together, she needed time to—_No! There's no time! I've had enough time!_ Maura screamed at herself. _Jane needs me NOW! Oh, Jane… I'm so sorry!_ Aloud, Maura asked with a hoarse and strained voice: "Where is she now?"

"We don't know, doc, we just don't know…"

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**So, that's it for this chapter! I hope it was good enough to make up a little bit for my absence! Thank you very much for reading, and for sticking with this story so far J As always, please let me know of your opinions and thoughts! Have a great day!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello everyone! The aim of this story is mainly to deal with the emotions and thoughts of each character in the aftermath of a terrible occurrence. The previous chapter definitely did not reveal Maura's reactions, but that was not the purpose of the scene: I wanted all the characters to put the information out into the open. Maura will be alone when she deals with what she has learned – she ran because she's used to being alone, and now her perceived need for isolation will continue. So don't worry about her lack of response, that'll be dealt with now J I hope this chapter can put lay doubts to rest! Please enjoy!**

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It had been hours since Maura had made any movement; hours since she had quietly asked the people who had crowded her living room to leave. She was so distracted – so absolutely shattered and shocked – that she didn't even notice their eventual exit. The hostility she had seen within Frankie's eyes, and the pain and… disappointment?... she had seen in the eyes of Korsak and Frost, were not even a raindrop in the tempest of emotions she found raging within herself. The door had been pulled shut softly behind them, and the silence descended upon Maura as would vultures on fresh carrion.

She had been left with her own thoughts, and not even Frankie's deepest hatred could measure up to the hatred she felt for herself… And for the monster who had given her life. For hours she wallowed in the silence, her mind completely blank in its inability to comprehend all the information she had been given: her brain had encountered this new data, analysing and breaking it down, but was unable to fully interpret its meaning or the impact it would have. The shock had surrounded her, squeezing and smothering any response her brain would normally have generated; but there was nothing normal about this…

Sluggishly, her brain had ordered her thoughts and emotions – her limbic system finally becoming fully activated in response to the horror she had heard. The stillness that had surrounded her took on an ominous and seething personality; the fine trembling that had assailed Maura's body had taken on a coarse and violent character, until her shaking rattled the couch on which she was seated.

Her mind discarded its usual rationality and was overtaken with imaginings of what Jane may have gone through; Maura was bombarded with terrifying images of Jane's suffering and torture. The absence of physical evidence did little to deter the scenarios she had created, with Jane in the main role and Doyle ever present.

Every gruesome image was another brick in the enormous tower of self-hatred and guilt within Maura's soul. _Why did I have to leave?! It's MY fault! Why? Why did Doyle do this? Why did I do this?_ Without warning Maura sprang from the couch, overturning her expensive, antique table acquired on one of her many visits to Paris; the glass pane covering the top was flung onto the ground, shattering into thousands of glinting shards. But it wasn't enough. The doctor swivelled on her feet, her eyes frantically looking for another outlet for her seething emotions. The lamp was then no more as she yanked its cable from the power supply and tossed the porcelain lighting at the wall.

Maura's chest continued to heave as the sobs were torn violently from her throat; she sank to the ground amongst the slivers of glass, her tears joining the shining pieces around her. She curled into a ball on this shattered bed and covered her grief-contorted face with bleeding hands, the red and clear fluids mixing on her body. And there she remained settled, spending a mostly sleepless night interspersed with gruesome images and terrifying nightmares; until the taunting light of day and the shrill ringing of a cellphone yanked her back into a bleak reality…

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI

"She looks to be… Uhh… looks to be in her…"

"Early thirties?" Korsak finally came to Frost's rescue, after having watched him struggle to pull himself together since arriving in this alleyway more than 20 minutes ago. "We're all tired, kid," the gruff man said, giving the younger detective a friendly, albeit subdued, pat on the shoulder.

Frost threw his mentor a thankful look, responding with a soft "Yeah, that's what I said, old man. Maybe you should get your hearing checked." Truth be told, this weak attempt at humour was just another way to deflect from how unfocused and withdrawn Frost had been feeling ever since Jane was taken, and even more so now that she had left. He was worried, and Dr Isles' arrival yesterday did little to calm the absolute confusion he felt. _How can I not be angry at her? How can I not blame her? They do say that blood is thicker than water, and the ME had hurt Jane just like her father had…_ Jane's partner was filled with doubt: he had seen the genuine grief, shame and regret in the doctor's eyes, yet he couldn't just discard the feelings he had been having towards her before she had just shown up. She hadn't only abandoned Jane when she had fled, she had abandoned him and all her other friends – who considered themselves to be more family than anything else. If she hadn't left, would Doyle have gone after his partner? But maybe he would've done what he did regardless of Maura's whereabouts… _Dammit, man, focus on the goddamn body in front of you!_

Korsak had turned away from his young friend, trying to give him some space, and knelt beside the body while donning the purple latex gloves his department was usually issued. Quietly, he began to make an assessment of the corpse laying before him: "Female, early 30s; appears to have been shot point blank in the chest, left side; very little blood pooled around the body, and no blood splatter on the surrounding alley walls – moved from the original site of murder; she is completely naked, lying as though thrown to the ground; no attempts have been made to cover her up or preserve any dignity…" Just then, his musings are interrupted by a loud, angry "What the hell are you doing here?!" shouted by Frankie, who had been securing the perimeter. Korsak looked in the direction of the commotion and saw a flustered, pale Dr Isles turning towards Jane's livid brother; she spoke too softly for Korsak to hear, and then turned towards him before Frankie could make a scathing response. Even the usually-vibrant clicking of her heels sounded muted as she tiredly made her way towards the latest murder victim.

"Good morning, Sergeant-Detective Korsak," she said quietly, as Korsak rose from beside the body. "Good morning, Dr Isles," came the succinct reply; the detective stepped aside in order to give the ME access to the young woman sprawled on the floor. Maura nodded slightly, not daring to meet the old detective's eyes lest she find even more reproach and hatred there; she felt more than enough for herself. Frost, meanwhile, had gathered himself and stood next to Korsak, and they both looked down at the doctor as she opened her kit and began her assessment. "Let's give the doc some space, Frost." With that, Jane's brothers in everything but blood left the doctor to her work and stood aside to make notes on what they had discovered so far; Korsak took the initiative, Frost being too distracted once again.

On the ground, crouched over a body, Maura should have felt in her element; work was the one way in which she could drift away from her problems, focusing solely on finding answers to the problems of the dead. Today was different, however, and there could be no escape from her thoughts of Jane. _I wish you were here…_ _Ask me what the cause of death is; today, I might even take a guess for you. Ask me what the calibre of the used bullet was… Ask me, ask me anything! Please, Jane, please…_ Shaking herself, Dr Isles put a professional façade in place and walled off her wandering thoughts – for as long as possible, which turned out to be just long enough to take a liver temperature reading. Finding yet another reason to be angry at herself, she jumped to her feet and walked with determined strides towards Frankie, who had been glaring at the ME's back the entire time she had been at the scene.

Frost noticed the doctor's departure from the side of the body, and grew alarmed as he saw her stomping towards a boiling Frankie. "Come on, Korsak, before someone gets killed!" The pair hurriedly tried to intercept Maura, but managed only to meet her just as she arrived to stand in front of Rizzoli junior. They stopped a metre or two away, and waited for the explosion they knew would happen.

"I know you blame me for what happened, Frankie, I know— no, don't interrupt, just let me finish. I know what I did to your sister, to all of you, is unacceptable. If I were in your position, I would never forgive you – in fact, I can't even forgive myself – and I will forever live with the guilt and regret for what I did… And what my father did. I never considered him a father before, but he is that now because I've hurt Jane just as much as he did – it seems we're more alike than I ever could admit. I know that you would rather have nothing to do with me ever again, but I'm asking you… I'm begging you… to help me with two final things… Help me to find Jane" "You don't think we've looked! Who do you—" "I'm sorry Frankie, I didn't mean to imply that you haven't been trying your hardest. I just, maybe… maybe we can find her together… That's the first thing, and maybe it's too much to ask, too much to hope, that I'll be able to help you find your sister. You may not believe this, but I love her. I LOVE her, and I will do anything necessary to get the chance to tell her that, even though I have no right and she may not even look my way… It's the second thing that I feel we can work together to achieve: I want to find Paddy Doyle. I want to bring him down! I want to destroy his world, as he has destroyed mine!" Maura hadn't even noticed the tears streaming down her face, and the detectives and police officer were taken aback by the absolute thirst for vengeance they could see on the normally composed doctor's face. They looked at each other, as though silently communicating, and then turned to the ME as one: "We'll do it." 

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI

Jane had slipped out of her paranoid stupor, and was now nestled in the corner of the dirty, dingy shower stall, the cold water battering her naked and shivering body. When she had arrived home, she had been feeling in control for one of the first times since she was taken: she had beaten the man who had been stalking her, and had emerged victorious. With a spring in her step she made her way to her rundown apartment, and sat to enjoy a cool beer and a few cigarettes while watching a seedy late-night show on the tiny television included in the room. It was when this high had begun to fade, however, that she started to feel a niggling doubt in the back of her brain. Was it a man who had been following her, or a boy? Had he been holding a knife? Was she going crazy?

She had then entered the bathroom, using the flickering light to illuminate her drawn face in the mirror. She didn't recognise the person who stared back, and the tiny part of her that was still a cop, was still somewhat sane and unbroken, began to question the person she had become. She began to wonder if she was capable of attacking an innocent homeless boy, who had been using his pocket knife to peel the black bits off the half-eaten apple he had picked up off the ground. As the flashes of what had really happened solidified in her mind, she backed away from the mirror in horror and stumbled into the shower where she threw up the alcohol that had been nestled warmly in her stomach; she then collapsed into the corner, after turning on the cold water to wash away the blood that covered her hands.

Her hands were dirty, and damaged…

_It had been 11 days since she had been taken._

_Jane was tied down in an uncomfortable wooden chair, its slats broken and splinters sticking out from every surface. The thin woman's wrists were bound with a coarse yachting rope, and her hands were positioned palm down. Strangely – it being so uncommon – Jane was awake and aware of her real surroundings for the first time in 5 days, and she took the opportunity to look around the room's sparse furnishings._

_Doyle and two of his men had entered her cell this morning carrying a small table, a chair and what appeared to be a leather toolkit. They had proceeded to secure her to the chair, and had placed the table just out of her reach (even if she could manage to get her hands free which, judging by the size and obvious strength of the man who had tied the knots, was extremely unlikely). They then opened the bag, and that's when Jane really started to panic…_

_The first thing the pulled out of the bag of torture was a sharp scalpel, and they looked on in glee as Jane began to breathe heavily and yank at her bindings; they placed it almost reverently at the top left corner of the table. Next, they extracted a set of pliers, a dissection pin, and a pair of scissors – each was placed neatly on the table. Finally came the needles and thread, the sand paper and short, thin strips of metal. When the tools were all set out on the table Doyle and his goons left the room, leaving only Jane and her imagination for some time; after what felt like days, they returned._

_Before they even began, Jane was exhausted and in pain: she had imagined every scenario, had imagined every way in which each instrument could be used to make her suffer. "Oh Jane, you have no idea what we have in store for you. We want to write you a story, and what better paper than your skin!" Doyle said sadistically, as though having read Jane's mind. "Start with the scalpel, O'Mahew; our detective here loves scalpels!"_

_O'Mahew picked up the knife and held it to the dim light which just glanced off the blade to give it a menacing gleam. "I'm much more imaginative than Hoyt, Detective; I hope you can appreciate my creativity." They all laughed at this remark, as the scalpel was brought closer to Jane. She had been struggling to break free, and tried to lean back as far away from the scalpel as possible as it approached her, but all this was in vain. Her hands were completely immobile, and she shut her eyes tightly for a moment, squeezing a few tears from their depths. She opened them again, and looked down at her hands – maybe it would hurt less if she watched…_

_The scalpel was placed under her nail, deep in her nail bed; as O'Mahew began to pry the first nail off, Jane once again started to scream…_

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**I hope that chapter was satisfactory, and a step in the right direction. Soon, Maura and Jane will be brought together, but I first wanted to deal with them individually a little… **


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey everyone! I hope you're enjoying the last few days of 2012, as well as the post-apocalyptic world ;) I'm not quite sure if anyone is still following this story, but the writing continues J I'm going to try to complete this fic within the next 2 weeks, before university gets started again… So, let the chapter begin!**

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The morgue was quiet that morning as Maura began the Y-incision on the murder victim that had been found in the alley a few hours before. The processing at the scene had taken longer than usual, as the usually focused doctor had to spend some extra minutes to compose herself and draw her thoughts away from the ample problems which plagued her. After having spoken to Frankie, Korsak and Frost, the spark of determination within her had grown into a roaring inferno; the self-hatred and guilt she had been feeling were pushed aside to make space for more important and relevant emotions: a boiling anger at Paddy Doyle, and overwhelming concern for her best friend.

The autopsy took no longer than usual, the shattered Maura from the night before having given way to the cool and efficient Dr Isles; she knew that Jane would never condone "slacking off" on a case, no matter the reason, as justice for the victim was always a number one priority. And so the ME pulled her back straight, dimmed out the droning noise of all her concerns and thoughts, and did what she had been trained to do.

Maura removed the black scrubs she had been wearing and placed them into the laundry bin, then quickly discarded the used latex gloves, mask and goggles. As was her routine after an autopsy, she proceeded to wash her hands thoroughly and then moved into her office and took a seat at the oak desk she had chosen as part of the interior decorations of her workspace. She turned on the desk lamp and let her eyes wander for a few moments, before they settled on the red plastic chair directly before her. Her mind was filled with images of Jane, always complaining about how uncomfortable this imported – and very expensive – piece of furniture was; these memories showed the Jane that Maura remembered and loved absolutely: the laughing, kind woman who had befriended the socially-inept doctor even when all the others kept their distance from "the Queen of the Dead". These images of happy times, however, were quickly overshadowed by the dark thoughts that had re-emerged within the despairing doctor's mind: images of Jane somewhere out there, alone and broken in the aftermath of what her _father_ had done. Maura couldn't stop the sob from escaping her, nor could she control the flood of tears that now streamed down her face. _Oh Jane… I'm so sorry…_

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI

5 days later the killer had been arrested and the case was closed. '_Most murders happen for one of two reasons'_, Korsak had said to Frost after the suspect had confessed to the killing: '_money or sex; in this case it just happened to be both'._ Indeed, the crime they had just solved was the perfect case study for the classic murder: young couple gets married in community of property – all assets that each person owned before the marriage became the property of both – in order to show their undying love, trust and devotion. Two years after they signed the legally-binding marriage document, the wife begins an affair with a _'fun, carefree and sexually-experienced'_ (in her own words) bartender at a club the married couple had visited on a few occasions. The husband, having discovered scratches and bites on his wife's body (the very few times they had sex together in their bland and boring marriage), begins following his wife during her weekly '_night out with the girls';_ he catches his wife and the bartender in the act, and coolly begins planning on how best to take advantage of the situation ('_seems like it was a very happy and close marriage_,' Frost had remarked). And so the husband went about buying a gun off the streets and using it to execute his wife in '_a mugging gone wrong'_. Oh well, it had seemed like a good plan at the time.

In terms of creativity and originality, this crime receives a rating of 2 out of 10; performance and end-point achievement of desired outcome: 3 out of 10 (gotta give him a few points for good aim). All in all, the crime was basically an open-and-shut case, for which everyone involved (except, of course, for the perpetrator) was thankful: now they could focus fully on finding their friend.

Maura sat alone at the Dirty Robber, in the booth she usually shared with Jane when they came together for an after-work drink or two. Before her sat a nearly full glass of Pinot Noir, her mind having been too distracted to enable her to drink one of her favourite beverages. For the past 2 days, ever since she had handed her final autopsy and laboratory findings on the victim to Detectives Korsak and Frost, she had been using her resources and contacts in an attempt to track down Paddy Doyle – the bastard who Maura was determined to see pay for what he had done to the person she loved more than anyone and anything in this world. She spent 30 hours at the precinct, using their computers and gaining access to all the case files they had on the Irish mob boss; by familiarising herself with his past actions and deeds, she would be better equipped to determine his future actions and thus she would be more capable of finding him. She had exhausted this source of information, and was now waiting for the others so that they could continue with their search in the place most likely to yield a few clues pertaining either to Doyle or Jane: the streets.

"Hey Dr Isles," a voice from behind Maura said. Without turning around the doctor replied calmly and formally, "Good evening, Detective Frost." Only by keeping herself detached could Maura hope to be able to work with the people she had hurt so badly; she had always been awkward in social situations, especially when they involved unpleasant experiences, but she could not afford to let her usual reaction of withdrawal and avoidance get in the way of finding her lo… Jane.

Frost and Korsak sat down opposite Maura while Frankie stood at the head of the table, his hands stuffed angrily into the pockets of his worn jeans; they were all wearing comfortable and warm clothes, in preparation for the reconnaissance that they would be doing outside tonight. "Can we skip the pleasant bullshit and just get out there already? You can take your damned wine in a paper cup if you don't wanna waste it! I'll be outside." With these muttered words, Frankie spun on his heel and stormed out of the bar; he hadn't met Maura's eyes once.

"We're all on edge, doc," Korsak explained tiredly, partially trying to justify Jane's brother's behaviour and partially to speed up the process of getting out onto the streets and finally doing something constructive. "You and Frost will stick together, and me and Frankie will partner up."

"Why don't I go with Frankie? Come on, Korsak!" Frost threw a judging glance at the sitting ME, who pretended not to notice, and then turned a pleading gaze on the older Detective. "I'd rather be out there with someone I trust, man." Korsak just sighed in response; he understood what his young partner was saying, but he had his own reasons to want to pair up with Frankie (mainly to keep the hot-headed, desperate police officer in check, and to prevent him from doing something he'd later regret).

"Frost, you've just gotta trust me on this. I know you and the doc aren't comfortable with each other, and that you still have lots of unresolved issues, but just put on your adult panties and work together so that we can finally start getting somewhere in this god-damned mess!" By the end of his sentence Korsak had raised his voice, his eyes jumping between Maura and Frost. "You're angry, Frost, I get it! And you feel guilty, Maura, I understand that too! But Jane doesn't need your personal shit getting in the way of finding her, you hear me?" When they both remained silent, tense expressions on their faces, Korsak repeated: "DO you hear me?"

"Yes, Vince" "Yeah, yeah, I hear you!"

And so it was settled; the 2 pairs set out into the night, determined to find some answers.

RIRIRIRIRIRIRI

"Rondo's usually around these parts," Frost said tersely to the doctor walking beside him, clouds of mist forming in front of their faces. It was freezing outside, and their tempers were starting to wear thin in the biting cold; more than once they had snapped at each other in the past few hours, and after the last time they had settled into a strained silence. They had begun to lose hope of finding anything out about either the mob boss or Detective Rizzoli, the homeless and street 'workers' either too afraid to speak about the cold-hearted murderer or truly lacking the knowledge the pair was looking for; of Jane, none had heard a thing, nor seen her for many weeks. "Let's check out the shelter, they have a soup kitchen for dinner round about this time," Frost continued, as they approached a large, lit store-front. Inside, the pair was assailed by an amalgam of smells: unwashed bodies mixed with the scent of some sort of meat and gravy; the musty odour of the well-used carpets and the pungent bleach the homeless often used to clean their clothes during their visits to the shelter. They quickly located the man they were in search of, his loud, distinctive voice having drawn their attention the moment they had entered through the door.

"Vanilla's lady friend! You're looking FIIIIINE tonight, mmmm… And Chocolate, Vanilla's partner. This ain't your usual hang-out, so you're obviously lookin' for something! Anything I can do to help?" Rondo continued to dish out bowls of what looked like some kind of beef stew, even as he looked at the detective and doctor that had just arrived. "You guys aren't looking too great on this wonderful winter evening! What's got your knickers in a twist, as our English friends would say?"

"Good evening, Mr Rondo" "'Sup, Rondo" they both replied simultaneously as the homeless man finished his vivacious salutations. They noticed that Rondo's attention was fixed mostly on Maura (he likes his women, after all) and so the doctor was the one to begin the explanation of why they were there and what they needed from him. "We'd like to ask you a few questions as soon as you're finished here. It has to do with Jane." Rondo had stopped serving the homeless people in front of him as he finally realised just how exhausted and worried his two visitors were; he immediately grew concerned. "Is Vanilla alright?" he asked quickly, hoping to get an equally quick and positive response; their hesitation only served to magnify his sense of unease. "Hey, George! Come here and take over for me so that I can talk to the fine detective and medical examiner!" He quickly pulled off his apron and handed it over to a short, balding Hispanic man who had come out from an office in the back. He directed Frost and Maura towards a ratty old couch situated in the corner of the room, and hastily waved them to take a seat. "What's going on?"

"Jane's missing, Rondo…" Maura said quietly; she could see how fond the man before her was of her best friend. "Paddy Doyle – he – he had her abducted and tortured. She was in the hospital until about 3 weeks ago, and now we can't find her. Have you heard anything? I just want her back, Rondo, I just want her back…" her voice trailed off as she fought to compose herself in front of the now-alarmed man. "And anything you have on Doyle, anything at all, I want to know that too…"

"I had no idea… My Vanilla was hurt? By Paddy Doyle you say? I haven't heard anything about either of them, doc… If Jane had been around here, I would definitely know; I got some eyes on her, and they tell me when they see her… So she's either keeping a very low profile, or she isn't in town…" Rondo was almost talking to himself by now. "If I was Vanilla and I wanted to get away, where would I go?" He redirected his gaze at the pair seated next to him. "I haven't heard anything on the streets, but I'll put more feelers out. If there's something to be learned, I'll hear it! I wanna help you find Vanilla; she's always good to me. And Paddy Doyle? I've got some friends in low places… I'm gonna find out everything about him, and then I'll let you know. No-one hurts my girl and gets away with it! Let me get started now." With that, Rondo leaped from the couch and strode determinedly towards the door. At the threshold, he turned around and called, "When I know something, I'll find you!" He left.

"I guess that's all we can do tonight, doc…" Frost said resignedly, his fatigue and feeling of failure making him forget his anger at the doctor. They slogged their way towards the Detective's Crown Vic, which they had parked 2 blocks away. The silence between them was no longer tense but rather weary and defeated. The silence continued even as they arrived back at the police station and went their separate ways.

Maura flopped bonelessly onto her couch at home, and stared unseeingly at the wall next to the television. She was absolutely exhausted, beyond the point where she could force her eyes to remain open. And so, still in the woollen skirt and sweater she had worn during her night excursion in the streets of Boston, she fell asleep on her couch, clutching Jane's preferred pillow tightly to her chest.

Only 2 hours later, Maura was jerked awake by a shrill ringing. It took her a few seconds to recognise the sound as that of her cellphone, which was wedged beneath her between the sofa cushions. She unenthusiastically palmed it, praying that it wasn't another murder that would take her time away from looking for Jane. "Dr Isles," she snapped into the phone, having foregone looking at the caller ID. "Doc… Doc, Jane just called…"

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**I'm sorry that this chapter is a little shorter than usual, but I just wanted to get the story moving again… It's been quite a hectic few days! On that note, Merry Christmas to all those who celebrate it J I hope that you enjoyed this chapter, and would love to hear your thoughts on how this story is shaping up… Have a wonderful day, and always stay safe! Thank you for reading!**


	10. AN on reviews

**Good Christmas day, all! Alas, this isn't another chapter yet (but one of those will be coming along soon) :)**

**I've only just now read all the reviews from Chapter 8, as my email account has stopped receiving notifications of 'New Reviews'. So I'd like to take this opportunity to say a very big thank you to you all for your emphatic reactions! It's truly very much appreciated, and I hope to continue keeping things on the same level! I always take opinion's into account, and greatly enjoy reading about people's thoughts and desires for the story! Thank you too to everyone who is following and reading this story :)**

**Have a lovely day (or whatever remains of it)!**

**All the best!**


	11. Chapter 10

**Hey all! I hope you've had a wonderful past few days J Thank you again for the reviews, and for the new people now following this story! I appreciate your feedback very much! With regards to words missing, does anyone else have this problem? I've looked into it on my laptop, but can't find a reason for words being deleted… I'm sorry for the delay in posting this chapter, but please do enjoy it!**

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"Where is she?" Maura asked as she burst into the bullpen, frantic and flustered after having received Frost's phone call a mere 20 minutes earlier. She had never dressed and gotten ready so fast in her life, and her dishevelled hair and somewhat wrinkled clothes were evidence of her hasty departure from home. All the way over, her hands gripping the steering wheel and her foot pressing the accelerator flat, she had cursed her trusty Prius for not moving fast enough; her mind was in complete turmoil with thoughts of Jane – of the condition in which they would find her. _What if she's hurt herself? What if we can't help her? … What if she hates me?_ On seeing the Detectives' drawn faces, these thoughts grew in volume, and even more doubts and fears bombarded her already tumultuous conscience.

Frost, Korsak, Frankie and Angela were sitting around Jane's desk, all clutching a mug of coffee as though they were holding on to a lifeline; Angela held Jane's mug, trying to maintain a connection with the daughter she had known… From before. They all turned silently as Maura made her way towards them, their eyes reflecting the deep pain within (_Pain that MY family caused,_ the doctor's guilt-ridden thought resonated in her brain). "Where is she?" she asked again, whispering this time in respect of the silence that covered the room like a shroud. "She… She's in Chicago, doc." Frost said quietly, the excitement he had conveyed over the phone all but lost under the weight of the knowledge that he now bore.

"What did she say? Please, Frost! She… Does she want us to go to her?" She would have gotten all of this information before, when the detective had phoned her, but following the words '_Jane called'_ and '_we're at the office'_ she had shut her phone and hustled to get changed and jump in her car to make the frenetic drive over. Her anxiety only grew now, and she collapsed into one of the free chairs; she waited apprehensively for a response. "She said that… she needs help… That she thinks she hurt someone…" Maura had buried her face in her hands, even more frightened of Jane's mental state – and more doubtful of the possibility of recovery. The ME would only be able to make a full assessment, however, if she saw Jane for herself, first hand; only then would her extensive medical knowledge be useful. Her social and familial expertise – limited as they were – would be worthless though; in dealing with her broken best friend, the friend that she had abandoned in her time of greatest need, the doctor and her intelligence would be worthless. Nevertheless: "I want to go," the doctor stated.

When she looked up she saw mixed reactions to her proclamation: Angela and Korsak simply stared at her, as though waiting for her to explain why she should be the one to go; Frankie and Frost looked completely stunned – it soon turned to outrage. Frost's disagreement was drowned out by the louder, more forceful voice of the Rizzoli brother. "You think you can just show up after disappearing and leaving everyone – my sister – behind, and take the place you gave up when you walked out?! You're NOT her best friend anymore, DR DOYLE, and it's your father that fucked her up! The father that you chose over her; the father who you knew was a god-damned murdering mob boss, and you STILL chose him!" "Frankie…" "NO, let me finish, Korsak! She needed you back then, Maura! She needed you but you weren't there! Instead, you were off gallivanting who knows where, having a vacation while everything here was falling apart! So don't tell me that, out of all of the people here – all of the people who suffered when Jane was taken and didn't rest for even a second until she reappeared – that YOU deserve to be the one to go to her! No FUCKING way! Do you even know what daddy dearest did to her? Huh? Have you even bothered to find out? Or don't you want to dirty the perfect image that you have of Paddy?!"

Maura had no response; everything he had just screamed was 100% true. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, as the tears streamed down her face and her hands began shaking, but no sound would come out… And even if it could, there would be no words worth forming, nothing she could say in defence. She was guilty. But she wanted – she needed – to help Jane! _Even if she never wants to see me again when (not if) she gets better, I need to help her now, as a doctor if not as a friend._ After thinking this to herself, she repeated it out loud. When she saw Frost and Frankie gearing up for another go at her, she held up her hand pleadingly. "Please, just hear me out. I agree with everything you said, Frankie, and I know that everyone wants to go to her… But, and I don't mean this as an insult to your relationship with her or your desire to help her, she didn't respond to you when she left the hospital, and despite your efforts she hasn't gotten any better… She needs professional help, and I truly believe that bringing in a complete stranger will only agitate her and make things worse. She hates having people see her as weak, and I know that the idea of Korsak, Frost and even her family seeing her will be a major mental hurdle – if she tries to hide what happened, as she did when she was in the hospital and after, then she can't deal with… With everything. I'm a doctor, above all else; your skills are better suited to tracking down Paddy Doyle, and bringing him to justice. I have no influence on the streets, although I want to bring him down as much as you do; and when Jane gets better, we'll both help. You're right, Frankie, I don't know what happened to her… I've requested her file from the hospital but they refused to release it to me, and I didn't feel I had the right to ask any of you." At this stage, Maura hangs her head as her throat closes up. She takes a few moments to breathe and ease the trembling of her lips, then lifts her head and makes one final plea: "Please, I'm begging you now… Please, let me see what happened to her. Let me be the one to go to her; let me see if she'll respond to me, be it positively or negatively. I know you don't believe me, but I love her… So much."

This final part of her speech was met with a loud scoff from Frankie and a snort from Frost. Angela sent a stern glance in their direction, and they immediately settled down. She turned to Maura and took a deep breath, then: "You hurt Jane very much when you left, Maura… That much is true; not that you don't already know it. I know that you had to grow up with little affection and shows of love from anyone, and that you've come to rely on yourself for everything; that's why you felt you had to leave, to deal with everything on your own. Am I right?" Angela waited for a response, and only continued when Maura gave a small nod of her head. "That's why I couldn't stay mad at you Maura. Sure, I was angry at first, but – contrary to what people might believe – I do stop and think rationally at times. I see you as my daughter, Maura (at this, Maura's tears flowed stronger, and she brought a hand to her mouth to prevent any sounds from escaping). And Jane sees… saw… you as more than a sister, if you ask me. And I don't blame you for what that monster did to her! Your reaction in the warehouse, from what I heard, could have been better but, if I remember correctly, you didn't visit him in the hospital before you left; in the end, you didn't choose him over Jane, even though your shock and confusion caused you to do that in the warehouse. And I can see in your eyes just how much you want him to pay. Honey, you're family AND you're a doctor – that's what Jane needs right now. And that's why I think you should be the one to go to her…"

Everyone in the room was once again stunned into silence; even Korsak had his mouth hanging slightly open. He gathered his wits quickly, though, and began planning for Maura's departure: "We'd better get that medical file."

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI

6 hours later, Maura was sitting in a private room within the airport terminal building; her flight would begin boarding within 40 minutes, and she had wanted to find a secluded spot where she could view Jane's file. It turns out that no-one actually knew what exactly Jane had been through, as she had forbidden the release of her medical file to anyone; they had to pull quite a few strings and call in quite a few favours before they could get their hands on it. As though it was a bomb, they quickly handed it off to the Medical Examiner without even glancing at what was contained inside – they wanted to help Jane, but they couldn't bear the knowledge just yet of what had been done. And so that left the doctor to read about all the terrors within, to see the pictures that were always included in cases of physical abuse.

To say that Maura was scared would be an understatement – she was absolutely and completely terrified of what she would learn from this plain, misleadingly normal-looking brown paper file placed on the table before her. She knew it was futile, since the contents of the folder could not be changed now, but she found herself sending up a heartfelt and desperate plea for mercy. Her entire body was shaking and, try as she might, she could not find that calm place within herself to which she retreated during the autopsy of a particularly horrific cadaver; she could not centre herself. _As Jane would have said: 'like ripping off a bandaid'._

With that, Maura flipped the file open.

She slowly released the breath that she had inadvertently held in, and read the patient details that were always found on the first page: patient name, date of birth, gender, occupation, civil status, place of residence… and the history of what the EMS had found on the scene upon their arrival. _The primary assessment is absolutely essential in the treatment of major trauma – in any injury actually_, Maura heard one of her lecturers saying. She read the small passage that had been hastily scribbled down:

_Unconscious, Caucasian female found outside on doorstep – possible hypothermia; blanket may have provided some protection. Pupils non-reactive to light, but not dilated. Low-volume pulse – weak and thread; regular character and pattern. Breathing is rapid and shallow; blood pressure 90/40mmHg – hypovolaemic shock; saline IV started immediately. Blanket cut for assessment of wounds – multiple lacerations, some bleeding and some partially healed, found all over body; too many to handle at this stage – only major bleeding controlled for now (found middle back, lower abdomen, right leg and left forearm). No obvious bony deformities noted, although crepitus in left forearm may suggest breakage of radius and/or ulna; placed in C-spine collar for protection of neck during transport. Patient alive on entry into ambulance._

Maura skipped over what support had been provided en route to the hospital and read the bottom of the page, where there was a short statement that had been written by the trauma nurse: _Live patient received; awaiting assessment by surgeon._

The next few pages described the care that Jane had received; the explanations of procedures done were clinical and unfeeling, just as Maura's autopsy notes were, and the doctor couldn't help but think for a moment that Jane had died and her colleagues were writing about a corpse. Jane had been stabilised within the trauma unit: they immediately began transfusing blood in order to treat the shock, and hastily began stitching the wounds found everywhere on Jane's abused body. They carried out a more thorough secondary assessment, including an X-ray of her arm, and found a complex closed fracture of her left ulna – this would need surgery for correction and internal fixation (she needed 6 metal screws to hold her arm in the correct position for optimal healing). They also found numerous 3rd degree burns, especially on the soles of her feet, and the nurses and doctors worked together to cover them properly with the correct dressings used for burns; they would need to be monitored very closely for any signs of infection.

Jane was optimised and ready for surgery 3 hours after her arrival at the hospital; after a 2 hour surgery, she was released into the care of the ICU, where they began treatment for malnutrition, as well as providing antibiotics to combat the infection causing her fever. The ICU is also where forensic evidence was taken.

Pictures were included…

Maura heaved when she turned the page to the first photo, and just managed to hold down the bile threatening to erupt from her mouth. The first photo was of Jane's back… Or what was left of it. It was a mess of stitches, partially-healing cuts and bruises; there was not a piece of undamaged skin to be seen. Her buttocks and the backs of her thighs were in the same condition. The second photo showed the oozing, burned soles of her feet – the 3rd degree burns had destroyed the skin and nerves found within it, effectively destroying the body's natural barrier against infection.

Maura could hardly stand to look at any more, but she forced herself… She had to know, for Jane.

She saw photos of deep cuts – _possibly a knife,_ Maura thought – on Jane's scaphoid, hollowed abdomen; there were numerous cuts present all over her bony arms and legs. Some of the cutting formed patterns on the vict— Jane's skin, as though the person wielding the cutting implement had been drawing. The detective's face was slack and pale and so, so thin: her cheeks were hollow, and there was a long slash that started just to the right of her eye and continued downwards toward her chin (_that will definitely leave a scar_…_ all of them will_). Her ribs could be counted easily, the weight loss extremely apparent.

There were several more photos detailing further, more minor injuries.

Maura had reached a page that made her heart stop for a moment as she read the words: _Rape Kit and assessment of sexual assault._ She closed her eyes tightly, sending another prayer up to a god in whom she didn't believe. With resolve, she began reading about the various genital and general examinations that had to be done. She released a loud sob as she read the conclusion: _Although there were no visible signs of penetration, this does not decisively exclude the possibility of rape._ It wasn't a clear answer, but it gave Maura a small seedling of hope that Jane had been spared this indignity; only Jane would be able to tell her for certain.

Next was the toxicology report, where Maura read that traces of mephedrone had been found in Jane's system. _Oh no_, Maura thought with dread as she pulled on all the information she had learned about the drug used so commonly on the streets; she grew even more scared of what she would find when she got to Jane. _Physical wounds often heal… Mental wounds seldom so._

All this information crowded into Maura's already battered mind, and she fought the sickness and despair that threatened to consume her. '_Flight AA389 to Chicago is now boarding at gate C15'_ the loudspeaker announced overhead.

"I'm coming Jane…"

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**Alright, so I thought I'd give a few details on Jane's physical wounds and create a more solid picture in everyone's head. I'm sorry for the medical jargon and for some boring parts, but I wanted to be as accurate as possible with describing what happened from a clinical point of view :) In the next chapter, which will be up in the next 1 or 2 days, Maura finally sees Jane! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, though, despite probably hoping for a confrontation… Please let me know if I'm on the right track, and if this story is keeping you happy... Keep safe, and have a wonderful morning/afternoon/evening, depending on where you are :)**


	12. Chapter 11

**Thank you all very much for the reviews, and to the new people following this story! I love to see such responses! I hope you enjoy this chapter… Now, on with the story!**

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"Jane? Hello? Is anyone in there?"

Maura knocked on the apartment door a little more forcefully, hoping to hear her best friend's voice. She had arrived in Chicago little over an hour ago, and had immediately made her way to the address Frost had pinpointed as the origin of Jane's phone call; all the way on the drive over Maura had her hands clenched into tight fists in order to still their uncontrollable shaking. She was scared of what she would find. When she had exited the taxi, she had been greeted with run-down buildings and unsavoury characters all around – the area looked about to implode, and there were what could have been drug deals happening in broad daylight; there was garbage littering the streets and sidewalks, and gangs of tattooed young men and women lurking in alleys, smoking (_most definitely not only cigarettes, if I can smell correctly_). The building she entered was just as dilapidated as its neighbours, and the roof and walls were cracked and dirty; the linoleum flooring was covered in stains of various colours, and the pervading odour was sour and nauseating. Having brought her official identification as the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts (and with a few dollars), the doctor had little trouble convincing the doorman to give her the number and key to Jane's apartment – _very safe accommodation,_ Maura remarked to herself, her sense of unease having reached a crescendo and plateauing.

And now here she was, waiting outside Jane's door, hoping that what she found inside was better than what she had seen so far.

Hesitantly, she turned the rusted key in the keyhole and pushed the door open with a loud creak. She was immediately assaulted with the smells of cigarette smoke, alcohol and vomit; she brought her hands up to cover her nose and mouth as her eyes watered from the stinging, unclean air. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the gloominess inside – light provided by only a single dim lamp in the corner – and she looked at the rubbish heap that was the TV area and kitchen: the ground was covered in empty cigarette boxes, ash, whiskey and beer bottles, and a few take-out containers containing rotting food. Maura took all of this in with the feeling of dread climbing up her spine, its claws burying deep into her vertebrae; she had to stop for a moment to compose herself as the conditions in which Jane had been living for the past week were revealed._ Oh God, please let her be in better shape than what I see here._ "Jane? Please, are you here?" She strained her ears in an attempt to hear even the tiniest sound, all her senses in overdrive as the adrenaline and cortisol flooded into her system and made her sweat.

Picking her way through the things littering the carpeted floor she arrived in front of another door, which was slightly ajar; she reached out her hand slowly – scared – and nudged it to open, the rusted hinges disturbing the eerie quiet that enveloped the apartment. She stepped through the doorway and entered the bedroom: the sheets had been pulled from the bed and deposited in the corner, and the stained mattress hinted at long-time use; again, the floors were nearly impossible to see through the debris scattered everywhere, and the only source of light was a bare bulb hanging from the middle of the room. "How can you live like this, Jane?" Maura asked herself quietly, her trembling voice reflecting the tears that had gathered in her eyes.

There was another door and the doctor stepped towards it, her anticipation growing.

She knocked softly and, hearing nothing from inside, turned the metal handle and opened the door wide. The strong smell of stale sweat and acidic vomit attacked her nose before her sense of sight could interpret what exactly it was seeing… And then that information reached her brain. Maura gasped in horror as she saw Jane for the first time in months, her crumpled form nestled in the corner of a mildew-ridden shower stall. There was bile and small pieces of digested food all over her clothes and body, and her oily, dirty hair was a pall over her pale, unmoving face. For a heart-stopping, seemingly eternal, moment Maura was frozen in place. Following that stillness, she was pushed to the floor by the harshest emotions she had ever felt – her knees buckled under the weight of an all-consuming guilt, self-hatred and regret.

Another moment passed before Maura was propelled into action, quickly sliding her knees across the slimy ground to Jane's side. Finally thinking like the doctor she was trained to be, although overwhelmed by emotion and unable to calm herself as doctor's should, she put her fingers tentatively to Jane's neck… And felt an erratic and speedy, but strong, pulse. She let out a quick sob in relief and, unmindful of the disgusting state that her friend was in, lifted Jane's head and shoulders and placed them into her lap. With tenderness, and unsteady hands, she moved Jane's matted her away from her face and lovingly stroked a bruised, scarred cheek. "Oh Jane…" the doctor's voice broke as the tears now moved in a steady stream and dripped from her face onto her love's; she leaned down slowly and placed a light kiss on a forehead caked with grime and other substances. "I'm so, so sorry, Jane… I'm—," Maura couldn't continue as the silent tears turned into heaving sobs that shook both her and Jane violently. She pulled Jane's head to her chest and clutched her as tight as she could, as though by sheer force she would be able to pull Jane from wherever she was lost. The shame and remorse she felt threatened to choke her, and she shook her head repeatedly to dislodge the horrific images of a broken, bleeding Jane that her mind conjured and taunted her with. "It's all my fault…," she whispered with a voice shattered by pain.

For nearly 2 hours they remained in that position, Maura weeping – head bowed in defeat – and Jane cradled securely in her arms.

"Wha-…" Maura quickly lifted her head to attention as she heard incomprehensible moaning coming from Jane, and her eyes widened as she noticed her friend's eyelids begin to flutter open. The doctor held her breath for Jane's reaction to her presence, and waited for the deserved anger that was sure to assault her when Jane realised who exactly was holding her: the woman responsible for everything she had been through. The detective's eyes finally opened; unfocused, they looked at the shadowed face above her.

And Jane screamed.

"NO, NO, GET AWAY FROM ME! DON'T, PLEASE DON'T! I'M SORRY! PLEASE!" Jane scrambled away, her back hitting the wall violently; she backed completely into the corner and tried to curl her body in on itself, trying to make herself disappear. She stared, terrified, at the stooped figure in front of her, with absolutely no sign of recognition on her face. She tightened her arms around her knees as tears and snot mixed to make an even bigger mess on her face and clothes. "Please… Please…" Jane whimpered. Maura was absolutely shocked, although not too surprised; the dread she had been feeling before solidified into fully-fledged terror. Every plea, every whimper, was another shard piercing Maura's heart and soul; her anger at herself and her father… Paddy Doyle… grew into a monstrous fury. She was careful not to show this emotion on her face, however, for fear that she would scare Jane even more… Although that didn't seem possible. Slowly and non-threateningly she approached the quivering ball that her friend had been reduced to; she held out her hands as though trying to placate a cornered wild animal (_That's what Jane has become_). She made soft cooing noises as she wrapped her fingers around the skeletal arms of the love of her life who, in response, trembled even more as she tensed her body in anticipation of pain and torture. Nothing happened and, after a few minutes, Jane turned her head to find out why: why she had been spared.

She still made no show of recognising Maura, and her eyes were glazed as she entered a comatose self-protective state. Maura sighed miserably, feeling a small sense of relief that Jane couldn't tell who she was – for now, at least, she would be spared the anger that Jane would surely feel when she came to her senses; for now, she could help Jane without struggle and resistance. Keeping her movements slow, always slow, Maura helped the detective to her feet and undressed her; she turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm before gently leading Jane under the cleansing spray, which was completely ignored by the comatose woman. The doctor, still dressed so that she wouldn't confuse or upset her friend, stepped into the spray behind her and, picking up the soap, set about washing away the evidence of the past few days from Jane's body and hair. Maura had always hoped that the first time seeing Jane naked would be the night when they would finally make love after confessing their love for each other; she had always envisioned examining every inch of Jane's body passionately while bringing her new lover great pleasure. Instead, she kept her eyes completely averted – not even daring to look at the scars with which her father had marred the perfect body before her – out of respect for the once body-shy detective. She would look upon her naked form, she would inspect the scars and marks, only when Jane allowed her to; she would not take that control away from Jane, even though she was so vulnerable now.

The warm spray had caused a change in Jane: she was starting to wake up and become more aware of her surroundings. That is why, when she had quietly said "I can dress myself", Maura had left the bathroom to give Jane some privacy. Behind the door, Jane stood before the mirror and gazed at herself as she felt the numbness seep away and her mind becoming focused. _Maura is here… _Jane thought to herself quietly, her emotions once again fighting each other and becoming confused. _She's here…_ One emotion finally won out: anger. _How DARE she?!_ Ferociously, she banged open the bathroom cupboard and pulled out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, yanking them on forcefully. She agitatedly slammed the bathroom door against the wall and stalked into the bedroom, bringing Maura into her red-tinted sight. "You LEFT Maura! You just got up and fucking left after the warehouse, like I didn't even exist! I did my job… I did my Goddamned job and you chose that… that monster over me! Your fucking _daddy_ over the person that loved you! I-I was so alone, Maura, and I couldn't even find you so that we could talk it over, like normal adults would do! I was so alone, and I couldn't find a way to make it better… And then he took me… He-I," Jane had started becoming flustered now, her face twisted in remembered agony and a gut-wrenching loneliness that Maura wished she had been able to ease when it counted. "He hu-hurt me for 2 weeks, and when I got out you still weren't there… I was still alone…," the last part was whispered in a cracking, hoarse voice. Maura cautiously opened her mouth to speak, but quickly snapped it shut with a click of teeth as Jane's body once again tensed up. Jane continued: "I needed you then, Maura, and where were you?! Huh? You think you can just come now and I'll fall into your arms? No. Nuh-uh."

"Jane, please—"

"Get out."

"I—"

"Get. OUT!"

"No."

Jane was stunned by Maura's audacity, as the doctor continued: "Hate me, Jane; I hate myself. But please let me help you! Once you're better, then I'll leave." "Well, you're definitely good at that, doc," Jane replied mockingly, waving her left arm in a shooing motion. "If you won't leave, I will."

Maura had listened woodenly as Jane screamed at her, silently agreeing with everything that was said; she deserved every bit of loathing that was thrown at her, and she wished again that things had been different. But she knew that wasn't possible: that the past can't be changed. And so she had pushed aside all of her own feelings – pushed them aside to be dealt with when she was alone – and focused on Jane; she vowed that she would do whatever she could to help Jane get better, even if that meant inciting even more of her hatred and scorn. Through Jane's shouting, Maura could see how exhausted, pained and mentally unsound her best friend was; she couldn't be left alone, even if the person keeping her company was the one who had started all this… _Maybe I can be the one to end it too_.

Jane, having grown ominously still, suddenly lunged towards the door, making a reach for the handle; Maura quickly stepped in her path, spreading her arms to her sides to bar the way. She never thought for a moment that Jane – her Jane – would hit her. But that's exactly what she did. Drawing her right hand back, Jane slapped the doctor across the cheek, sending her sprawling to the ground and splitting her lip; Maura fell with a cry and held her hand up to her stinging face, shocked and slightly fearful. With a violent, venomous expression Jane turned to the downed woman and drew her teeth back in a snarl; her glinting eyes met those looking up at her, and she froze. Those eyes held understanding and resigned acceptance… And love. It was this final emotion that caused Jane's knees to buckle, and her hands to reach for the woman before her. What she saw didn't erase what had happened, didn't lessen the hurt that the detective felt at having been abandoned – what she saw gave her a sliver of hope, where before there had been none. The two women fell together, Maura with her arms wrapped protectively around Jane, and the rift that had opened between them grew a little more shallow, and a little more narrow.

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**Ah, so that's that! :) I tried to explore Maura's emotions more thoroughly, and hope that I succeeded somewhat. Don't worry about Jane having forgiven Maura completely… She hasn't, but she's realised that she needs help; the process of healing has begun but is definitely nowhere near complete! Please let me know your thoughts on this chapter! Have a wonderful beginning to 2013, and may the new year bring success and happiness in all forms! :)**


	13. Chapter 12

**Ah, a nice, warm, food-filled beginning to the new year! And now we need to start all over again! Except for this story: it continues onwards! Thank you all so much for the reviews, especially the positive ones; I always await them eagerly, and every single one of them – whether a particular criticism or praise – is appreciated and considered in preparation of the next chapter! Unfortunately, it's impossible to keep everyone happy… But to those still following: please enjoy reading!**

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They had been sitting in the same position for 20 minutes, both with tears streaking down their cheeks – the Madonna and baby Jesus; Maura and Jane. They drew comfort from each other for this short time, the troubles of their lives falling away in the face of their embrace. Although outwardly the silence was one of safety, inside Maura's mind there was a maelstrom of thoughts. Her cheek was still throbbing dully from Jane's violent slap, and the pounding was reciprocated within her skull. She had found her best friend, and for that she was beyond grateful, but said friend was an absolute mess – going by the things she had read in her file, that was to be expected… But that didn't make it any easier to accept when faced with the real-live evidence. From the moment the doctor had creaked open the door to the apartment and was assailed with the external reflection of Jane's inner turmoil, she had wanted to burst out into tears; she wanted to sink into the bowels of the earth – to burn and to escape her love's suffering. But it was love that had straightened the ME's spine, and it was love that would give her the strength to hold herself up… And Jane, if she was allowed to. Maura tightened her arms around her detective and closed her eyes as a whimper was made.

Jane, meanwhile, spent this time to revel in the closeness of another body. It had been some time since she was last in contact with anyone without them causing pain – physical or emotional. Every time one of her family members or friends had hugged her or offered some kind of physical support, Jane couldn't help but to be exposed to their worry and tears. They completely overwhelmed her already-taxed state, and so she pushed them away when all they wanted was to feel her; all they wanted was to assure themselves that their friend, partner, daughter and sister had been returned to them, physically, in one piece. But the detective couldn't give that to them. With this thought, Jane started becoming agitated and anxious once again; she re-entered the state of hyperarousal in which she had been locked since the incident. The buzzing sound of the light bulb in the corner lamp was amplified into a petrifying electrical zapping; the beating heart of the person – Maura – holding her became a thunderous roaring in her ears. Paranoia once again started beating against the safety barriers she had erected around her mind, and those barriers were soon overcome under the onslaught of the barrage of terrifying emotions.

Jane shot up from where she had been nestled, flinging away Maura's arms and pushing her back. The panicking woman ran towards the kitchen, being followed closely by a disturbed doctor. Maura could do nothing but watch – overcome – as Jane grabbed a bottle of cheap whiskey, popped open the cap and drank a quarter of the bottle in one large gulp. Slamming the glass down, she whirled to face Maura, who immediately ceased her cautious movements toward the skittish detective. Jane turned back to the kitchen and picked something up from the counter; Maura saw it was a cigarette as Jane struck a match and lit the stick, taking a deep inhalation and then releasing the smoke explosively. The tremor in her hands made all her movements seem jerky and uncoordinated, and her eyes flitted around the apartment, searching for intruders. Her eyes finally landed on the doctor, who met her eyes calmly and with a deep sadness that extended to the depths of her soul. Maura waited for Jane to make the first move, allowing her to be the dominant in this situation. _The victim—NO! This is JANE; not a victim! A person who has been through what Jane has been through will have been subdued, with all control taken from them. It's an important part of the recovery process to return that lost control to them._ And so the ME waited patiently, her hands spread non-threateningly at her sides, her face kept sympathetic but otherwise impassive – any other, more powerful, emotion could prove to be too much for the detective to handle right now.

As the pungent smoke wafted up Maura's nostrils and into her lungs, she couldn't help but to give a few short coughs; Jane's gaze quickly zeroed in on the source of the sound. Her pupils were fully dilated and she was breathing rapidly and shallowly – an animal prepared to fight for survival. She curled her fingers into human claws, dropping the half-smoked cigarette in the process; Maura was propelled into action as the carpet caught alight. She lunged hastily with the intention of stamping the small fire out, but the wired detective saw only an incoming threat and misconstrued this for an attack: reflexively, her police training kicking in, she grabbed the ME's outstretched arms and pulled her forward, using her right leg to trip her and bring her to the floor on top of the flame; the reacting detective then dropped down on top of the downed doctor and used the palms of her hands and her thin thighs to immobilise the squirming figure.

Maura had no time to react as she was tackled and taken down, the confused detective falling on her to keep her still; she stopped struggling as Jane's hands pressed down on her shoulders, and the snarling woman fixed black eyes on those of the doctor beneath her. "It's me, Jane: Maura; it's just me, and I want to help you," the doctor said softly, holding the feverish gaze. She thought she would try something that had always managed to endear her to her love in the past: she would use her 'google-mouth' to explain things in a way that she understood, and hopefully convey to Jane that she would be there to help overcome the challenges that she faced – that they would face them together. "What you're experiencing is due to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and it's completely normal to be feeling paranoid, aggressive and reckless, and to be having flash-backs and panic attacks. Use of alcohol is a common way for people who have suffered trauma to attempt escaping from their shifted reality, and a significant percentage who don't receive the proper support go on to become alcoholics. I don't know what you've been through, Jane… I can only imagine based on what I've read in your file… I'm so, so sorry, Jane…" Maura paused briefly to clear her cracking voice. She continued, using her watery eyes to beseech Jane into listening to what she was saying: "When you get better, we're going to hunt Doyle down and make him pay! But first, you need to get better… And I'll be here for every painful step you take, do you hear me?"

Jane's hostile expression smoothed into one of fathomless desolation and self-disgust, and she lifted her hands from the slender shoulders of her lo—her friend, and covered her own face. Maura, without hesitation and with a river of tears flowing from a wellspring deep within, tugged at Jane's arms to reveal the broken person behind them; she gently pulled her into a supine hug, using both her arms and legs to envelop the shivering body and protect her from the world. Jane buried her face into the doctor's warm neck, and threaded her fingers with Maura's. "He ha-had me for 2 weeks, M-Maura… B-But it fe-eels like he st-still has me!" came a soft, tortured cry. Maura soothingly grasped and stroked Jane's fingers, squeezing her eyes tightly when she felt the jagged, soft remains of the agonised woman's nails. In the file it had simply said that the patient's nails had been missing when she had been brought into the hospital; Maura could only guess, uncharacteristically, how that had happened – each image she conjured sent another sharp stake into her abdomen. _Oh Jane, my Jane… Did you try to claw your way out from somewhere? Or were they removed by someone else? What were you thinking; what were you feeling?_ "He pried them off with a set of pliers… One by one…" Jane explained tonelessly, seemingly having read Maura's mind. Maura let out an anguished sob in response. Jane continued, oblivious to the pained keening coming from the woman with whom she was entangled: "My toes too, although I was used to the pain then so it wasn't so bad… He laughed at me the whole time and joked with the others that were in the room… '_Did you break a nail, Detective?', 'The blood-red nail polish really suits you."… _I didn't find it very funny, though…" Jane lifted her head and with a childish innocence, asked: "Was it funny?"

"Oh, my lovely, beautiful Jane! They all deserve to rot in hell," Maura spat venomously. "And I hope the devil laughs at their pain, too!" The doctor felt the brunette stiffen upon her outburst, and so she softened her voice once more: "But you're safe now, Jane, and I will NEVER let anyone hurt you again! Even myself." The last part was whispered, intended more for herself than for the ears of the detective. Gradually, the stiff body began to slacken, until Maura heard and felt Jane's breath even out and grow deeper – she had fallen asleep. Maura lay there for a few minutes, taking the time to calm her own racing heart beat. She felt an anger and hatred the likes of which she had never before experienced, and – for the first time ever – she was filled with the desire to inflict excruciating pain on another living being; maybe she was more similar to Paddy Doyle than she had imagined…

After ensuring that Jane had truly fallen asleep, and wasn't (for now) experiencing any nightmares, the doctor slowly and gently disentangled herself from her friend; quietly retrieving the bed sheet from the bedroom, she tenderly covered the sleeping form on the ground. To say that Maura was distressed would be an understatement, and the few things Jane had told her and she had seen were running on a loop within her mind: a gruesome home video starring her father and her best friend had been put to play, and she couldn't – nor did she feel she had the right to – make it stop.

RIRIRIRIRIRIRI

The wind was icy, and the dead and dying leaves of the gnarled trees fluttered downwards as they lost their connection to their source of life. Nothing could be heard tonight, save the air whistling through the branches and twigs, leaves and litter scrambling across the sidewalk. Overhead, the sky was black and moonless – the only light being cast by the single yellow streetlight that was in working order. The world outside was a dangerous place, made even more so when darkness added the factor of the unknown and unseen into the equation.

A shadow crept cautiously around a corner, having emerged from a narrow alleyway scattered with garbage. The man-shaped figure was hunched against both the biting cold and the eyes of others creeping around in the night. Another figure appeared coming from the opposite direction. If they both continued as they were, they would soon intercept each other… But that's what they wanted. The two people met under the tree standing closest to the streetlight and they nodded their heads in greeting, preferring to keep their hands ensconced warmly within their jacket pockets.

"Rondo," a short, scruffy-looking Caucasian male stuttered out nervously, glancing constantly around him. "I got some news for you, but first I need my cash." His glassy gaze and shifting feet suggested a drug user, as did the white coating on his tongue and his rotting teeth – Meth mouth.

"Allen, you really gotta get yourself some help man," Rondo seemed truly concerned for this young man's wellbeing, but he knew not to go further than offering a brief suggestion; he had other business to deal with tonight… _For my Vanilla._ "I got 20 bucks on me now, but I might find some more if your information is good. Why'd you call me out here in the middle of the night? This place ain't safe, even for people like us."

Allen snatched the $20 that Rondo had extended towards him and shoved them hastily into his pocket; he looked around again to make sure that no-one had seen the exchange of money – he'd hate to have it stolen before he could get some more product. Encountering nothing suspicious in the immediate surroundings, he viciously scratched the scabbing skin of his right cheek. "I got something to show you, man. You gonna love me for this. Then you can give me some more cash." "Yeah, yeah, let's get on with it, man." The short man turned on his heel, obviously leading the way somewhere; Rondo just shook his head and followed without a word. They walked for about 15 minutes, passing many other homeless people gathered around small fires; otherwise, the streets were quiet. Rondo noticed that they were heading in the general direction of the docks, and he felt himself becoming apprehensive. "Are you taking me to the docks, Al?" "Nah, dude, we're nearly there anyway. I'm not fucking stupid, walking into the docks at night!"

He had barely finished the last part of his sentence when they entered a stinking and dark alley between Asian and Mexican fast-food stores. Allen lit his lighter and held it aloft, walking steadily forward with Rondo close behind; he came to an abrupt stop, and crouched down. There was a body. "Holy shit!" Jane's CI exclaimed as the corpse came unexpectedly into view; now that he didn't expect. "What the hell is this?" "It's Paddy Doyle's work, man," Allen responded with a macabre glee. Rondo pulled out a box of matches and struck one, then bent down to inspect the body more closely. He then straightened up and pulled out his phone: "It's time to call in the big guns."

There was an ice pick in his heart.

RIRIRIRIRIRIRI

When Frost had received the call from Rondo at 01:00, he had immediately contacted Korsak and the proper authorities in the police department, informing them that a body had been found. He had just arrived at the scene, seeing the older detective already there, and made his way towards where he could see the white head of Dr Pike on his knees. "What we got, Korsak?" Frost asked uneasily, having been told by Rondo that the victim had an ice pick through his heart: _it damn well looks like Doyle's doing, Detective Chocolate,_ the bubbly CI had told him over the phone. "From what anyone can tell, Frost, this was a mob kill." They arrived alongside the body; Frost's eyes widened in shock, and he disbelievingly bent closer to see the victim's face more clearly. "Shit," he whispered to himself. "What? Frost, do you know this guy?" Korsak had noticed the shock flooding across his friend's face but had thought it merely the usual queasy reaction to a dead body. When Frost didn't move away from the body to get some air but rather bent closer, the sergeant knew that something was wrong.

"Yeah, Korsak, I knew him," Frost said quietly, "he's one of my CIs from my Robbery days. He works at a gas station near the docks, so I asked him to keep his ears open for any information on Doyle's whereabouts. He wasn't supposed to do any real snooping, just listen out for any talk, damn it!"

"Detectives?" came the haughty, nasal voice of the replacement ME. "Do you actually want to work, or do you want me to do that too?" Both detectives turned their attention to the irritating man: "Have you actually found anything, or do you just enjoy being an arrogant ass?" Frost replied agitatedly.

"Humph," Dr Pike huffed, "I found a note in his pocket! It's addressed to you, Detective." Things were just getting more and more complicated. Korsak grabbed the note, using gloved hands, and opened it up so that both he and the younger detective could read it together. The words were written in a tight scrawl: '_If you want to find me in order to thank me for returning Detective Rizzoli alive, that's really not necessary. I don't take kindly to people interfering with me and mine, as I'm sure Jane can tell you and you can see by your dead friend here."_

"I guess only Maura can get to him now…" Korsak exhaled dejectedly.

RIRIRIRIRIRIRI

Maura closed the phone with a forceful poke of her thumb, closing her eyes in reaction to the news she had just received from Korsak. "Bastard! That bastard!" she whispered fervently to herself, referring to Doyle. When she had seen Korsak's number on her caller ID, she had answered the phone feeling somewhat hopeful: she could really use some good news, like them having captured the mob boss. But the opposite had happened, and he continued to remain hidden. Maura would like nothing more than to search for him herself, but there were several factors hindering that desire: firstly, she wouldn't know where to start; secondly, and most importantly, Jane needed her here. She turned despondent eyes to her love's curled figure: "We'll find him, Jane, as soon as you get better. We'll find him together, and we'll bring him to justice!" She said this softly, as much to herself as to Jane. She got up and tip-toed towards her best friend, sitting down beside her.

She would keep watch tonight.

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**I've tried to expand further on how Maura is feeling, and the next chapter will focus on how Jane feels now that Maura has re-entered her life. It's taking a bit of time to get the story moving along, and I hope that my long-winded style hasn't put anyone off… But I do so like my descriptive words :p The Doyle plot line will be explored and built upon, especially when the two leading ladies finally get actively involved. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter! Another shall be up as soon as possible!**


	14. Chapter 13

**A good morning, afternoon or evening to you all! :) Once again, I'm greatly humbled by your reviews and follows/favourites, and am extremely thankful that you've taken the time to read this story! I apologise for the slight delay, but I've been getting ready for another year at university… But for now, on with the chapter! :)**

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After an hour of restless sleep while wrapped around Jane's body, Maura had finally given up on getting even a brief respite from the thoughts that plagued her; instead, she had decided to try losing herself in the distraction of cleaning the dirty, old apartment in which Jane had been living, and which they now would be occupying together until her best friend was ready to return a few hours the doctor's mind had been focused on disposing of the bottles upon bottles of alcohol (mainly whiskey), cigarette boxes and butts and the few takeout containers that littered every surface of the combination TV room and kitchen; she then used a dust pan and wet cloth to render this living space relatively liveable, although its overall ragged condition precluded any true hygiene or comfort. Next, she had attacked the bedroom and bathroom. These were slightly cleaner, as Jane must have spent most of her time on the sofa in the other room, where she could have quick access to the various liquids housed in the kitchen. The mattress was uneven and stained with things Maura would rather not think about and the carpet was threadbare; there was only so much anyone could do to clean up without having to resort to a stick of dynamite and many gallons of bleach.

The tired ME felt somewhat proud of her accomplishments when the sun finally peeked through the tiny window set above the sink in the kitchen. She finally flopped down onto the single bar-style chair by the counter, and surveyed the small apartment and how different it looked now that some of its surfaces were actually visible – it was just shy of needing to be closed down by the Department of Health for various blatant violations. Maura, however, was prepared to live anywhere so long as Jane was there; there was nothing that could separate them now. A soft whimpering had started, coming from a still-sleeping but now agitated and sweaty Jane, and the detective seemed to be trying to shield her face from an invisible attacker. The sounds began to increase in volume and become coherent: "No...Please no…Not again…Just leave me alone!". Fatigue forgotten and heart clenching in anguish, Maura jumped from her seat and knelt by her friend's side, unsure how to go about offering comfort. She was hesitant to touch the brunette for fear of worsening the nightmare by introducing a tactile element to the horror she was obviously reliving. In the past, physical closeness had been the preferred and most effective response to the problems they faced in everyday life and the workplace; now, though, Maura had no idea how she could awaken Jane without causing her to panic and become confused – maybe even lashing out. The doctor settled for quietly murmured words of comfort whispered into the detective's ear, as she tried to coax the thrashing woman into wakefulness. It seems the alcohol that had helped her to sleep had eventually worn off, leaving Jane's mind vulnerable to terrifying images of her ordeal. Maura felt helpless.

Finally, Jane's eyelids began to flicker, heralding her return to the land of awareness… And memories. Her soft pleas started to fade, replaced with the moaning of one with an intense hangover after too little rest. Maura placed her hand unobtrusively next to Jane's head, not quite touching, so that it would be the first thing the detective would see when her eyes opened. Within a few moments Maura was blessed with the sight of her love's brown irises, the whites of her eyes bloodshot and bleary; it took another few seconds before the brunette was able to focus on the appendage that had been placed next to her. The doctor held her breath as Jane's gaze traced her arm upwards and to her face, settling as they met Maura's hazel eyes. "Good morning, Jane," the ME spoke softly, a small smile gracing her worried features. Jane remained silent, an indeterminable expression on her face. Maura's smile became a little more strained, and she continued in an attempt to fill the uncomfortable silence: "You were having a nightmare so I attempted to wake you up. Did you know that the word 'nightmare' literally means—"

"I don't really care, Maura. I've been having enough of them that I'd say we're pretty well acquainted and past the need for names," Jane said with a snarky tone dripping with sarcasm. Maura was shocked into silence, tears welling up at her friend's interruption and rebuke… _Jane always loved my 'Encyclopaedia mouth',_ Maura thought to herself sadly; she remained where she was on the ground, waiting for Jane to make a move. The detective pushed herself to her feet unsteadily and tottered towards the kitchen; she opened the cupboard and then the fridge in search of some sustenance, but promptly slammed them both shut when she encountered their emptiness. _Empty like me; huh, take that for a metaphor, Maura!_ She spun around quickly to face her unwanted visitor, consequently losing her balance; the doctor had followed the unsteady woman closely, determined to confront her, and so her arms shot out when the brunette looked about to fall over. She left her hands snugly around Jane's upper arms, even when Jane attempted to shake them off. "I put 2 Advil and some water on the counter for you," Maura stated without any judgement, using her chin to indicate the pain relievers. This time when the detective tried to remove herself from the doctor's grasp she was promptly let go, and she turned around more slowly; she gulped the pills and water greedily, wetting her chin and sweatshirt in her haste. "Why are you here, Maura?" she had asked this very same question the previous night, but was so far gone within her panic-induced and alcoholic daze that none of that information had been retained; now, when her mind was relatively put together, she wanted answers.

Facing the doctor while leaning against the countertop, she waited for the uncomfortable ME to respond. Maura took a deep, slow breath and spoke: "I came to help you, Jane, and because I care about you. I returned to Boston just over a week ago, and Frost—"

"A week ago? You apparently care SO much about me, but you only decided to show up at home a WEEK ago? Bullshit, Maura! If you had cared, you wouldn't have left! But you chose Paddy Doyle over me! Did Daddy send you pictures of me being tortured while you were on holiday? Did you enjoy watching me in pain while you were sitting god-knows-where catching a tan?" Jane said this last part in reference to the healthy golden-brown colour that the doctor's skin had become after spending 3 months away from Boston.

Maura could no longer hold back the tears and so she let them stream – unhindered and silent – down her cheeks; she worked to keep her voice steady and open as she tried to explain herself to the person she had so badly hurt. "I didn't choose him, Jane! Please, if we've ever been friends, please believe me when I say that I will always choose you! I can't lie… But I'm also not good at dealing with family matters. When you shot him, and I know that you were doing your job and that the shooting was completely in-the-book ('_by-the-book'_, Jane corrected silently), I felt that I had lost the last chance to find out about my biological mother. I had spent most of my life dreaming of meeting her and being loved, finally being a daughter that was wanted, and the loss of my last known link to her was too much for my socially limited self to handle… And so I lashed out at you, Jane, and you didn't deserve that. Before I met you and was accepted into your family, I was always alone… I got used to dealing with everything by myself; you changed that in me. But at the first sign of stress I regressed, and I became that lonely, isolated person I was. I left so that I could sort everything out in my head… It wasn't my intention to leave you! I'm so sorry!"

"Where were you, Maura?" Jane had begun to have a niggling suspicion that she wouldn't like the answer to this question that Maura had managed to dodge; she wouldn't get away that easily, however.

"I re-joined Medicins Sans Frontiers – Doctors Without Borders… They sent me to Africa; in the region of Ethiopia and Sudan to be more specific. I helped at a small clinic for refugees and—"

"Was Ian there?"

Maura had dreaded this question which she knew was coming, even though nothing had happened between her and the Australian doctor; Jane wouldn't take the answer well, even if the ME explained, especially with the fragile state of mind she was currently in. "He was, yes. But nothing—"

"So while I was here, drinking myself to sleep every night and working myself to death for the first month, and then being tortured for 2 weeks and in the hospital for another 4, you were in Africa FUCKING Ian – the love of your life? That's unbelievable! I can't believe that—"

"NOTHING happened, Jane! And you would know that if you would just listen!" Maura's tone was loud and forceful, driven more by self-hatred and the need to get the truth across than anything else. She put her hand up to silence Jane, who had opened her mouth with the blonde's outburst. Maura spoke more calmly again: "Please just listen, Jane. You have enough to worry about without having this too. I went to Africa with the sole purpose of helping people in need; I signed a contract for 3 months, but stayed a few extra days to complete the vaccination schedule for the children of a small village. I had absolutely no intention of seeking Ian out and was surprised when he arrived at the clinic 1 and a half months into my service period. I was courteous, as I am with all – most of – my colleagues (_definitely not Dr Pike; she added the parenthesis with him in mind)_, but made no overtures of rekindling our previous relationship. He pursued me, thinking that I was merely playing hard to have, but I turned him down at every opportunity. He was, and will always remain, a complication that I don't need in my life. One of my other colleagues eventually knocked him up to get him to leave me alone! I love you, Jane, and I wish I had at least contacted you after my departure… I'll forever live with the knowledge that I, and my father, am the cause of your pain and suffering. We will both pay for what we did, I can promise you that!" The last part was said quietly, self-deprecatingly, and the doctor lowered her teary, blotched face to gaze at her feet.

Jane stood in silent contemplation of the woman before her, observing the genuine regret, hatred and bone-deep sadness painting her beautiful, but mottled, features. The detective was calmer and more put together than she had been in a long time, and she attributed that to Maura's presence: she had always had that effect. Jane spent a few moments thinking over what she had heard, going over the doctor's sincere words; after 3 months of extreme anger, disappointment and the feeling of betrayal, she was beginning to see through her best friend's eyes… And she was beginning to forgive her, although doubt still had a small residence within her. Jane took a step towards Maura, and covered the smaller hands with her own. "Your colleague knocked him out, Maura, not up," the brunette corrected with a tiny smile on a face whose muscles hadn't made such a movement in some time. "I still don't really understand why you had to leave, and why you did so without even a word to me… I'm still kinda hurt, actually, even though I'm starting to see what was going through your mind at the time. I desperately need help, Maura, and I'm glad that you arrived before I could no longer see what I need… I'm slipping, and I thought for sure that it would be too late for anyone to help me up. I also loved – love – you, but I just can't deal with it right now; I can't even deal with anything as it is. Just know that I don't blame you for what your fa-Paddy Doyle did, even though he said he was doing it for you."

Maura scrunched her eyes tightly at the forgiveness she felt she didn't deserve, and turned her palms upwards to clench tightly at the larger hands of her best friend and love of her life. Opening her eyes, she looked deeply into Jane's, willing her to see the gratitude, love, and absolute devotion that the doctor felt; she also let her see the determination to capture, and the hatred that she felt for, Doyle. Overlying all of this was the desire to help Jane in any way possible – to help her rebuild the person she once was into a person who was even stronger for her experiences. She would do everything in her power to save the woman before her and, if it proved impossible, she would go down, too, with this woman. The ME looked down at Jane's hands, and immediately the lessons that she had learned in medical school came rushing back to her. "Your nails are all infected, Jane," the doctor said with concern. She inspected them closer, seeing pus-filled and bloody cuticles surrounding nails that were soft and slightly dimpled in the centre. "And it appears that you have iron-deficiency anaemia," she said in reference to the nails' uneven surface.

"They're still growing back… And I bite them sometimes… Until they bleed." Maura could see that Jane was uncomfortable, and Jane was fighting hard to keep from reliving the painful removal of her nails. She started to breathe faster and her vision became dark at the edges; she was starting to panic, and she hadn't found a way to halt the attack before it took over in earnest. "Jane, look at me," Maura said with a strong voice as she tilted the detective's chin upwards, "just look into my eyes and focus on my voice. Try to slow down your breathing and breath deeply through your nose and out of your mouth. Don't be embarrassed that this is happening; your experiencing of flashbacks are just evidence that you were strong enough to survive the initial trauma. Let yourself relax and take in your surroundings here and now." Jane's eyes latched on desperately to Maura's, and her ears strained to listen beyond the sounds of static and thumping to the soothing voice floating towards her. She let the words surround and cocoon her, and eventually they began making sense in her jumbled brain; she followed the doctor's advice and, soon, her vision had fully returned and the anxiety that had overwhelmed her was now manageable, but still present. "That's good, honey; I'm very proud of you." Jane nodded slowly, their gazes still locked as comfort was given and taken by both parties. "We need to go to the store for medicines and some food. How does that sound? Do you think you're up for it?"

"Yeah, yeah, I think I can do that. It's just… it's been some time."

"We'll take it slowly, Jane, and I'll be with you at all times. I wouldn't have even made the suggestion if it wasn't absolutely necessary to get the medicines needed to treat your hands and the slight fever that you seem to have."

Jane walked determinedly to the door and swung it open, gesturing for Maura to precede her; the doctor stopped briefly at the threshold and said, "If at any time you feel uncomfortable, we will come back here immediately. You don't need to hide anything from me, Jane. It won't make you seem like anything but the strong woman I know and love."

...

The nearest shop and pharmacy was a 10-minute walk from the apartment building, and the two traversed that distance while remaining as close together as possible. Jane's head was in constant motion as she whipped around to look at her surroundings, awaiting an attack at any moment; she was tense, and she had begun sweating although the weather was cool and they had not exerted themselves overmuch. "Everyone's staring at my scar, Maura," she said desperately, reaching to grab the doctor's hand, which squeezed hers. They had barely walked 2 minutes when the detective started to feel paranoid and jumpy, and those feelings were now threatening to drown her. "I need to go back; I need to get away from here."

There was nothing Maura could say, no comfort she could offer at this point, that would help to alleviate what Jane was feeling. Social phobia was a common accompaniment of PTSD, and it wasn't something that could be overcome simply by telling the person to suck it up. She clasped Jane's hand tightly, using this connection to keep her friend at least slightly grounded; she turned them around slowly, and they began to walk in the direction from whence they came. "Just a little further, sweety, and we'll be back at the apartment; just hold my hand and hang in there." When the dilapidated building came into view, Jane sped up her pace and pulled the doctor along; by the time they reached the stairwell, they were in nearly a full-out sprint as they climbed to the 4th floor. Maura eased the key from Jane's trembling fist and unlocked the heavy door; the detective lunged inside and collapsed onto the lumpy couch. She put her head into her hands and began sobbing: "I can't even go outside! I can't even do that, Maura! I'm not STRONG! He b-broke me, and now I'm a useless, weak idiot who can't take a few steps in public without everyone judging me…"

Maura strode to Jane's side and knelt in front of her tear-stained knees; grabbing both of the brunette's hands and tugging them away from her face, she said fiercely, "Don't EVER call yourself useless, Jane! You are my LIFE, and you are the strongest person I have ever met! I shouldn't have made you go outside; your recovery can't be rushed… Someday soon, though, we'll face the world together, and everyone will look at your scar and see a survivor – they'll be awed by the strength they see!" Jane's crying slowed down and she looked at the kneeling woman as if to ask 'do you really think so?' In response, Maura simply tightened her grip and gaze a tiny but resolute nod.

"Go to the store, Maur; I'll wait here for you," Jane said after her tears had stopped completely and she felt a small measure of control and calmness returning, "I'll be fine." The ME hesitated briefly but didn't argue, unwilling to go against what Jane obviously wanted.

"Do you promise you won't do anything, Jane?" she asked intently, needing a final prompt before she left.

"I promise."

Maura stood up, placing a soft kiss on the detective's forehead, and made her way out of the apartment. Jane sat on the couch alone. When a few minutes had passed, and the shaken woman was sure the ME wasn't still hanging around, she got up and walked to the kitchen; there, she opened the cabinet under the sink, where she had placed a few bottled of cheap scotch. With no further thought, as that was too painful, she pulled one out and unscrewed the cap. She took a big gulp and, sitting on the couch once again, decided that the alcohol would keep her company until the doctor returned.

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**This is the longest chapter, although it's only slightly so… We're now fully in the process of recovery. Also, the issue of Maura's departure has been mostly dealt with and now we can focus on the recounting of what Jane went through; the flashbacks in previous chapters gave Jane's POV, and now we can get into Maura's reactions and emotions. This shouldn't take too long, and then we can get on with bringing Doyle down! Unfortunately, though, the time between updates may be longer… I start my second last year at medical school on Monday, and the schedule looks beyond hectic! :( This story will not be forgotten, though, and I will make every effort to find time to write and post. You readers are too valuable to let down, even though it may feel like I've pushed this story aside… I definitely will not! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)**


	15. Chapter 14

**Good day, all! :) I hope everyone has been keeping well and is enjoying the first month of the new year! Things have been quite busy on my end, but I tried to get this chapter out as quickly as I could… Thank you for reading and reviewing, and for giving me the motivation to keep the story coming! Now, let's get on with it ;)**

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Maura arrived wheezing and panting at the small corner shop 3 blocks away from Jane's – hopefully very temporary – apartment. As soon as she had closed the door on the deeply shaken and scared woman, the doctor had started running: she wanted, needed, to finish with the shopping as quickly as possible so that she could return to the detective's side. Maura would consider herself a fairly fit woman, maintaining an active lifestyle by taking part in various activities – from yoga to frequent morning jogs. Today, however, she found herself short of breath and with multiple stitches in her side; the exertion combined with her anxiety and worry had managed to render her nearly unconscious with the effort of bringing her breathing and heart rate back under control. After a few more deep breaths (in through the nose and out through the mouth), and after receiving a few curious looks from the other customers entering the shop via the doorway in which she was currently bent over, she managed to straighten up completely, but not without a flinch at the twinges of discomfort moaning their displeasure throughout her sweaty body. She adjusted her bag, fetched a shopping cart from next to the entrance, and strode down the first aisle…

Only 20 minutes later, after grabbing things off the shelf like a maniac stocking up for the zombie apocalypse, the even-more-tired doctor stood in the checkout queue and waited for her turn. And waited… And waited… Standing in line before her was a young man in his late teens, arguing with the nervous, trainee cashier after the credit card that he had been handed had been rejected for the 4th time. "What do you mean you're gonna call the cops?! Dude, that's my card! Just fucking swipe it again!" The agitated man shifted from foot to foot, the sweat dripping down the back of his neck and his hands clenched tightly within the pockets of his thread-bare hoodie. "It's only a packet of cigarettes and some chewing gum, sir. Can you not rather pay in cash?" the cashier tentatively asked, before jumping back in his seat as the man started screaming again: "I don't have no cash, you stupid fuck! That's why I'm using my credit card!"

Behind him, Maura was growing more and more agitated: she needed to get back to Jane, and she needed to do that NOW! She knew that confronting the thief in front of her was probably not the best idea she had ever had, but her first priority was the detective sitting alone in the dingy apartment. _Hopefully not doing anything to further harm herself._ Normally, after waiting so long to receive service, the ME would have left the store, but the items she was waiting to pay for were all meant to aid in Jane's recovery, to however small an extent: Maura had bought shampoo, body wash, clothes and other items to make her best friend feel more comfortable, although it would only be superficial; the nutritious food she had picked out would be used to prepare a few healthy, home-cooked meals to hopefully entice her friend to eat. So the doctor refused to leave; she silenced the voice of logic telling herself not to anger a man already on the brink of violence, and tapped him strongly on his scrawny shoulder. "I couldn't help noticing," Maura began faux politely, "that your credit card is one of the new types that is fitted with a personal chip. If the cashier just inserts the card into the machine instead of swiping it, you can just enter your pin number and prove that it's yours, so that we don't all have to wait for you to call in the jury and argue your case before paying." From behind the doctor came numerous murmurs and 'hear hears'. The man's eyes became even wider than they had been and he watched anxiously as the trembling cashier retrieved the credit card from where he had placed in on the counter, then inserted it into the credit card machine; he entered the shop's bank code into the small device, and held it out cautiously.

The youth's face was slashed with anger, and he swivelled towards Maura. "Fuck you!" he shouted, shoving the doctor's shoulders and propelling her into the people that were in the line behind her; within the next second he had taken off running, slipping sideways between the slowly opening doors and disappearing into the foot traffic outside. The doctor had, thankfully, been pushed into the arms of a rather large middle-aged man, who had saved her from a nasty fall and yet more bruises. His arms were wrapped around her, and the crowd of customers stood in momentary shock as they processed what they had just seen. "Thank you, sir; you can let me go now." Maura's grateful voice broke the big man from his reverie, and he quickly withdrew his beefy arms; blushing slightly and with a shy smile, he replied with a twanging Southern accent, "It's a pleasure, ma'am. Very nicely handled with that kid, if I may say so myself!" Again, there were sounds of assent from the others in the shop, and Maura just smiled and nodded in response. She dusted off her already clean jacket and pushed her trolley forward, beginning to unload the products piled within it.

She had been away longer than she had intended, but Maura sighed in relief as she finally stopped before Jane's door. She was sweating despite the cold temperatures outside, and her arms and legs were aching after having to carry the 5 large packets from the shop and then up the stairs of the decrepit building. The ME removed the key, which she had taken after leaving Jane behind, from her coat pocket and swung the door open while bending down to lift the bags and take them inside. "Jane, I'm here!" There was no response, but it was possible that the detective had simply fallen asleep in exhaustion; she wasn't on the couch, however. Maura dropped the bags in the kitchen and turned her eyes to the empty couch, making sure that her friend indeed wasn't there. She frowned slightly at the emptiness. "Jane? I brought some groceries so that we can cook tonight, and have a nice meal together. How does that sound?" Her gaze came to a sudden halt as they alighted on something shiny lying on the floor; she approached to investigate, catching her breath at what she saw: there were shards of glass glinting on the ground, and there was… _blood?..._ on several of the pieces. Under the sofa was a depleted bottle of Jack Daniels. She immediately sprang to her feet and rushed into the bedroom, fearing the worst. _What have you done, Jane? Please be alright!_ Jane had been very shaken by her brief foray outside, but the doctor hadn't considered that the detective would attempt doing something to herself. _But I should have, and I shouldn't have left her alone!_

Jane wasn't in her bedroom, either, and Maura became more frantic. "Jane? Please, Jane, where are you?" she shouted out desperately. Although she knew the brunette must be within the bathroom, the door of which was shut, she had been hoping to receive a reply; a reply would have meant that her friend was at least in the position to hear and understand – conscious and present within herself. The blonde barged into the tiny bathroom… and came to an abrupt halt before erupting into motion once again. Jane was sprawled on her back in front of the toilet, which she had reached just in time to unload her stomach contents. The doctor's emergency medical training slammed to the forefront of her memory as she roughly dropped to her knees beside her supine best friend. _ABC – airway, breathing, circulation – the essentials of a Primary Assessment,_ Maura chanted to herself as she took a moment to assess the situation and feel the rapid but strong pulse on the wrist she gently cradled, and then went about caring for the unconscious – but blessedly alive – figure. _Airway_: she efficiently did a jaw thrust to open her patient's airway, and then proceeded to place her cheek by Jane's mouth and feeling for breathing; it was present, and the ME sighed: _breathing – check. _She then rolled Jane to lie on her side, aiming to maintain her airway and prevent aspiration ('_The inhalation of vomit,'_ Maura heard herself thinking in response to her friend's imagined request for her to '_speak English_'). The ME then went on to look at her friend from head to toe, searching for any visible injuries; she noted with some dismay that 3 of the brunette's fingers and the palms of her left hand were cut and bleeding, although the flow had become sluggish. She jumped up and stepped to the cupboard above the sink, where she remembered having seen an old, inadequate first aid kit: she hastily removed several bandages and expertly dressed the wound – _it doesn't look like it needs stitches, thankfully._

With the extensive movement going on around her Jane had begun to awaken, and she opened her bleary, blood-shot eyes. "Huh? What's going on?" she slurred slightly. Maura was overcome with relief, and then anger. "What were you thinking, Jane? You could have seriously hurt yourself! You could have… you could have died! You know you're not supposed to lie on your back when you're drunk! Do you know what they call that body position in the medical field? They call it the burial pose! Burial pose, Jane! Because if you're not already dead and just waiting to be buried, lying down like that when you're unconscious will kill you!" By this point the detective's eyes appeared slightly clearer, although she was clearly still affected by the copious alcohol in her system, and she watched silently as the woman before her broke down in tears; she stood up slowly, swaying slightly, and sat on the toilet. "I-I don't w-want you to die, Jane. The only way I w-would be able t-to find p-peace would be by f-following you," Maura whispered in a tortured voice, her beseeching gaze fixed on her love. "I'm sorry, Maur," Jane spoke with a note of remorse, reaching her uninjured hand to cup the blonde's cheek and gently wipe away a few tears. "But I don't know how to live anymore…"

"No! No, don't say that!" the doctor sobbed out as she clutched the hand tightly to her face. Jane continued to stare forlornly, and tugged her hand from the strong grip; she said, "I can't talk to you about what happened, Maur… I don't want you to know… But it's all just building up in my head, and I feel like I'm going to explode! Drinking helps me for a while, but when I sleep I dream, and when I dream I remember… And then I wake up sober, and I remember some more… I can't do this, Maura! I just want it to stop!" The ME reacted to the withdrawal of Jane's hand by shuffling closer to her and putting both hands on the detective's knees, which she squeezed so tightly she could feel the patella (_Kneecap, Jane_) rubbing on the bones beneath it. "I want to help you so much! But I know I can't do it alone… I'm not trained in dealing with deep psychological trauma…" Maura said this with a note of self-deprecation, seeing her lack of experience in this field as a failure on her part. "You need help that I can't give you: professional help. Will you let me find someone? Do you think you could go to a psychiatrist, talk about everything? I'll never know – no one will if you don't want them to – but you'll be able to speak to someone without fearing judgement or pity. And I'll be here for anything else you need… I will ALWAYS be here…"

Jane blinked hazily a few times as she considered what her friend had said. She was aware that she was spiralling down into a pit of despair and pain, but hadn't been able to stop – or even slow – her speedy descent. She was filled with so much suffering, so much anguish, and she felt them bubble up her throat to block her airway and leave her gasping for breath – any respite. She watched as the kind, amazing woman on her knees before her reached for her scarred, damaged hands; she looked on as this woman turned them over, palm down, and tenderly stroked the soft finger nails that had just begun growing back. She then bent her head and kissed each one individually, her soft lips leaving a tingling warmth that sent a pleasant shiver racing down Jane's spine. The detective felt, for the first time in months, the love and adoration that she held for Dr Maura Isles, and the tiny ember of hope buried deep within her flickered slightly in response. "Please find someone, Maur, someone here in Chicago. I need help; I want to get better… For me… And for you…"

After the scene in the bathroom, Maura had phoned various psychiatrists that she either knew personally or had heard of; she managed to make an appointment for the morning of the following day. She then made sandwiches for both of them and led Jane lovingly to bed, where they lay down for sleep. The night had been fairly uneventful, although she had heard her friend whimpering more than once – the doctor's response was to hug her friend even closer to her chest. And now here they were, waiting for Dr Tshabalala to call Jane for her appointment. Both of them were nervous, fidgeting and – in Jane's case – bouncing their legs, while they sat impatiently in the bright, nicely painted and elegantly furnished waiting room. "I'll be right here, Jane," Maura said softly while using her hand to still the detective's restless knee. Just then, a middle-aged African woman exited the door directly across from them. "Maura!" she exclaimed with a smile, "It has been so long!" Her exotic accent hinted at a childhood lived outside of the USA, and the younger doctor felt herself smiling at her long-ago mentor. "It's an absolute pleasure, Dr Tshabalala… Cynthia." The larger woman embraced Maura tightly, then released her and turned her attention to Jane, who had stood awkwardly during the exchange. "And this must be Detective Jane Rizzoli! It is an honour to meet you!" She offered her hand with a huge and welcoming smile, and the brunette tentatively gave it a brief shake: "Hello, Dr," she mumbled self-consciously. Waving towards the open door of what appeared to be the counselling room, if the numerous couches, colourful pillows and motivational posters were any indication – Dr Tshabalala continued: "Please, come through, Jane. Is it alright if I call you that?" She waited for a nod in the affirmative. "Wonderful! Let us get started! Maura, we will take about an hour just so that we can talk; there are numerous magazines for you to read in the meanwhile, although they are not very recent."

Jane made her way into the room timidly, and jumped in surprise as the door was shut behind her; she felt trapped and uncomfortable, but masked this by settling on the two-seater corduroy couch with the blue pillows. Dr Tshabalala sat opposite her, notebook and pen in hand, and smiled encouragingly before beginning: "Let me start off by saying that anything we discuss in this room will remain in this room; whatever you say will be heard by my ears only. Is that fine?" The detective merely nodded her assent. "Alright! Jane, I was told that you have been through a severely traumatic event: that you were abducted and tortured. We will speak about this in due course but first, please tell me a little about yourself – about your personality, dreams, goals, anything – from before the entire ordeal began." The psychiatrist sat patiently, watching as her obviously deeply troubled patient gathered her thoughts. Eventually, Jane opened her mouth: "Well…"

They discussed the basics of the detective's life extensively, allowing the doctor to develop an opinion – a 'feel' – for the woman who had come to her for help. They had covered various topics: from Jane's reasons for becoming a police officer, to her acquisition of a pet ("Jo Friday", Jane had said with the hint of a smile), to her friendship with the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Jane had relaxed somewhat, sinking a little more into the comfortable couch beneath her; she looked ready to deal with more difficult topics.

"Maura told me a little bit about your abduction, what she knows and was told anyway, so I know that you were taken by the mobster Patrick Doyle and kept for 2 weeks. In these sessions, we will focus on and discuss the details of what you have been through; for now, however, please tell me about how he got to you. You can stop and take a break at any time, Jane; I am here to listen and hopefully provide some help, not judge. It will be a difficult and painful process, but you have people who will accompany you throughout this journey." The detective nodded resolutely at her doctor's words, determined to get through this relatively easy part of the story before moving on to the… torture… She had great trouble even admitting to what she experienced, but she vowed to try her best to explain even if it meant re-experiencing everything. Her thoughts had been jumbled when she awoke in Maura's arms this morning, and she had quickly disentangled herself from the embrace she felt she was too dirty and damaged to accept. Maura had made a great effort to engage her in conversation during breakfast and their preparations for leaving, but the detective was lost in apprehension – not only for her appointment with the "shrink" but because they would be outside again. The doctor had called them a taxi, minimising the time they would spend in public, and for that Jane was very grateful; the anxiety and panic was ever-present, but not overwhelming as it had been the previous day.

Bringing herself back to the present, Jane carefully formulated her reply. With a flat voice (_It seems she has dissociated herself as a protective mechanism,_ Cynthia thought), the detective explained: "Maura had been gone for a month; a month since I had shot her father. You know about her and Doyle, right?" The doctor nodded. "Well, I hadn't been doing real good. I had started drinking all the time just so I could numb the emptiness and betrayal that her reaction and departure caused. Most days, I didn't know most of what was going on around me… I was lost in a haze of whiskey and beer… And the other time I spent at the precinct, buried in work. It was late on a Friday; we had gotten a murder in a college basketball locker room. We had been working the case from 05:00 in the morning, so I hadn't had a drink for a few hours; I was much more sober than I had been all month… But he still got me. Frost and me, we split up in the parking lot of the police station to go to our cars and rest for a bit at home; it was 22:00, and we were seriously lagging. On the way home, all I could think about was getting lost in a few glasses of strong alcohol and the burn it would cause in my throat… The warmth in my body. But I should've been more careful. If I had just been more fucking careful! He was waiting for me at home… We talked; he told me he was gonna teach me a lesson… Teach me not to cross him or Maura. And then someone knocked me out, and I can't remember anything about how I got to the cell he kept me in. I just remember waking up to his smirking face… And then he-he…"

"I believe that is enough for today, my dear," Cynthia said gently, "Thank you for sharing with me what is obviously something very difficult for you to speak about." Jane grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on the table in front of her and hastily wiped away the mixture of fluids on her face, trying to hide the evidence of the effect her re-telling had had; she stood up stiffly, waiting for Dr Tshabalala to do so too. They walked together to the door, which the doctor opened for her patient, and Jane walked through it first. Immediately, Maura closed the magazine at which she had been glaring subconsciously and sprang to her feet, a questioning expression on her face and directed at Jane. When she received no clue as to the detective's state of mind, she turned her eyes to her mentor; Cynthia smiled slightly and gave a small nod. The ME turned back to Jane as she said, "Please take me home, Maur…"

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**Ah, finally another chapter is done! I'm sorry for the wait, and hope that this chapter made up for it a little… Thank you for reading! I'll try to get another chapter out as soon as I can, but please try to be patient with me! Keep safe, as always! :)**


	16. Chapter 15

**Hey everyone! Thank you so, so much for the reviews and positive feedback! I wish I could get the chapters out faster, but there's just not enough time to do things that are actually enjoyable :( I'm really sorry for that, but I hope that you're still enjoying it and following on while we trudge through! Now, let's see where this chapter takes us and our two favourite ladies!**

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Maura finally flopped onto the couch, the pillows hitting her back causing a huff to escape her lungs. It had been a very long, tiresome few days; she would do nothing to change them, though. There was nowhere she would rather be than here, helping her best friend and love. They had been going (well, she had been sitting outside and waiting for Jane) to Dr Cynthia Tshabalala for 4 days now, and although the changes in the detective were minute they gave Maura hope that her friend had not been completely destroyed; she had hope that the professional ear of the kind and experienced Psychiatrist, as well as the medications on which Jane had been started, would be the glue with which Jane could be put back together – sliver by tiny sliver. The Prozac would take at least 2 weeks to have an effect on the damaged mind harboured in its marred host, but it seemed simply talking had helped the brunette too; the sleeping tablets (_diazepam_, Maura remembered, thinking of when she had been sent to the pharmacy to collect Jane's prescription) were also definitely a major role-player in putting the characteristic glint back into the woman's slightly brighter eyes. Oft-times her eyes would take on a haunted and pained look, and the doctor tried her best to provide support and help – albeit in the silence that Jane had become so used to. Small acts, like bringing her a glass of water or tucking the blanket more tightly under her shin, were how the ME reminded her friend that she wasn't alone and that she never would be again.

Their daily routine also provided great comfort to them both. Jane slept in the bedroom, and Maura outside on the couch; with the diazepam, sleep came much more easily and – from what the Medical Examiner had been able to discern – much more peacefully. At least the detective no longer drank herself into a stupor every night just to chase the nightmares away; the smoking, on the other hand, continued unabated – a stress-reliever that Maura hated but couldn't take away from the very slowly healing woman. Daybreak usually found them sitting in front of the small television, eating the toast, eggs and bacon that the doctor had prepared for them. In silence, they chewed, drank the instant coffee ('_How can you call this sludge coffee?' _Maura had once asked Jane, before everything had tilted sideways and shattered into a million pieces) and watched the morning news informing all of Chicago's early birds of the happenings of the previous day, both in their own city and around the world. The rest of the day they spent in even more silence: Jane staring out of the window and Maura reading one of the many journals she had downloaded onto her iPad. The quiet atmosphere was broken only when the time came for lunch and then dinner and bedtime – "Lunch is ready", "Let's eat dinner" and "Good night" making up the majority of the words spoken.

Maura had woken up a little earlier than she usually did, which is how she found herself at the small, stained window that Jane spent her days facing; she looked down into the early-morning streets, watching the people bundled in their thick raincoats as they rushed to work… or back from whatever illicit activities they had been involved in during the night. The darkened sky did nothing to deter these people from getting where they needed to go… Maybe she and Jane could do the same: hunker down together in the onslaught of the metaphorical rain until they reached their destination, which would shelter them.

The doctor had gotten no more information about Paddy Doyle since the body of Frost's informant had been found, with the warning attached. _Daddy dearest,_ Maura thought hatefully, _all that note did is make me want to find you even more… And make you suffer, like you made Jane suffer!_ She had communicated with the detectives back in Boston on a daily basis, but they always had the same answer for her: nothing. _Doyle knows how to wipe his trail clean, damn him!_ She had put in her own feelers (_at least I think that's how the phrase goes_) but she had thus far found neither hide nor hair of the bastard. He had given Jane a phone, which she had made sure to hide very well, back when he still considered her an ally in the protection of his daughter; Maura knew that was the only way she would be able to contact him, but she also believed that it was too soon to involve the detective in the hunt for the architect of her current nightmarish situation. Maybe she was being stupid – something of which she had never been accused nor thought of herself – in delaying the inevitable question and subsequent search. _I'll ask her today,_ she vowed to herself as she gazed at the rain-slicked hair of the drenched passer-by; she just hoped that she could be – that the detective would allow her to be – the umbrella to shield Jane from the onslaught of terror that was sure to rain down.

The doctor eventually tore her gaze away from the deluge outside, heading towards the kitchen to get started on the morning's breakfast. Jane would wake up soon, and she wanted to be ready to greet her with a warm plate of food… Not that she ate much. As she switched on the kettle to warm the water needed for the _disgusting_ instant coffee her friend so liked to drink, a sound just barely reached her ears, lifting her head. Maura had always been aware of Jane's presence – the woman she loved was capable of drawing all of the doctor's senses whenever she was in the vicinity – but she had become hyper-aware of the brunette since arriving back into her life after it had been run through the shredder and then burned. She extended her ears (_not literally, of course_) and listened intently… there it was again! A whimper, soft and filled with fear. Maura's heart began thumping, the tremor it caused visible through her night-shirt, and she sprinted to the door behind which Jane was suffering. Without a pause, she gently opened the barrier between them…

_Desolation. Darkness._

_Shadows – cast by an incandescent, dancing flame – flicker back and forth, constantly mobile; a glimpse of their true essence is perpetually lost in the seething darkness. I try to penetrate the concealing gloom, try to elucidate the truth of these ever-shifting shapes, but instead find myself pulled deeper into obscurity._

_With a shiver I glance at the thin, silky barrier that sways before me: protection against the smothering figures that seem to coagulate behind its surface. With a rising sense of panic I notice how the shadows have begun to push against the screen, their oppressive presence leaking through the cracks to choke me. Deeper and deeper I fall; the phantoms weave around me._

_The shadow puppetry has begun…_

_Somewhere in the never-ending gloom a pinprick of luminescence proliferates and, gradually, the world brightens. I gasp in relief, believing my nightmare has arrived at its conclusion. Yet, instead of disintegrating in the growing light, the shadowy figures merely become more defined – their outlines take on a harsh darkness. I am plunged again into the ocean of asphyxiation._

_Arms, legs, bodies – the darkness takes on human form. Soon, I find myself caught in a maelstrom of phantom people. They speak and move and interact and yet the true details of their being remain elusive – their features remain hidden behind the gauzy, impenetrable screen. Different tales play out before my eyes – each puppet, each individual, twines a story; with the experience of a master, each allows me to see only what it wants me to see._

_The puppet itself remains effectively concealed._

_With a start I realise that these shades are not actually creations of my imagination: they are real people, hidden behind a skein of semi-truths and lies onto which they project only the barest silhouette of their true selves for all the world to view. Like authentic shadow puppets, never properly seen in performance, their lives are acted out on a screen – their essence protected from the prying eyes of others. Like genuine shadow puppeteers they manipulate people's perceptions, twisting them to believe in the clever fabrication._

_Puppeteer and puppet are irrevocably entwined._

_It is then that I hear a gunshot. Frantically spinning to find its source, I am confronted with a horrifying sight: one of the coalescent figures lays sprawled on the crowded street, its shuddering breath wheezing, its life essence oozing from a jagged hole. The other figures merely continue walking on, as though the ebbing life were but another lie that they could choose to ignore. Numb with shock, I watch as the shadow behind the screen grows faint. The light which gave it form fades into blackness, leaving behind nothing but an empty husk. And then this too collapses and fades. The protection of lies created during life is destroyed by death._

_Running home, I try to flee from these phantom figures. I lock myself in my room and, with heaving breaths, attempt to control my racing pulse and eventually achieve a fragile sense of calm. Slowly I edge towards my mirror._

_I scream._

_For what I see is but another faceless shadow._

_Even alone I can't escape from the nightmare – one so skilfully woven by the practiced hands of Paddy Doyle. Using a combination of drugs, mental and physical torture, he had torn me from my life and inserted me into a world of his own malicious creation…_

_And I didn't know how to escape._

_His eyes were everywhere…_

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! NO, NO, GET AWAY FROM ME DOYLE! LEAVE ME ALONE!" Jane screamed hoarsely as she brought her hands up to shield her face from the burning gaze and leering smile of the monster before her. Maura fell backwards in shock at the woman's sudden and violent awakening; her feet became tangled in the haphazardly strewn bedsheets, and she found herself deposited jarringly on the floor for the 3rd time in as many days. The doctor remained for a moment exactly where she had fallen, the dawning horror twisting her face into a pitiful mask of remorse, disbelief and sadness. _She thinks I'm Doyle; I look like Doyle, and she's scared of me…_ The knowledgeable, talkative doctor was rendered speechless and paralysed – unsure what to do. "Please, please don't hurt me. Please, I didn't mean to hurt Maura. I love her! I love her; I didn't mean to hurt her!" It took another moment for Jane's desperate pleas to register within Maura's brain, and out of all the things her friend had screamed one thing stood out: _She loves me… She loves me!_ With this realisation, the ME pushed herself to her knees and approached Jane's frantically thrashing form; she tentatively reached out an unsteady hand, ensuring that the fright-widened (_beautiful_) brown eyes could see her every slow move. "Jane, it's me… Maura, not Doyle… He's not going to hurt you again," the doctor said in the most soothing tones she could manage with her voice shaking as it was. She left her hand suspended midway between herself and Jane, effectively handing the reins to her friend; with bated breath, she waited for the stillness to be broken. Jane's intention was given away by the slightest slumping of her shoulders – her splayed fingers coming together into loose fists as they were lowered hesitantly. "That's right, Jane… My love… It's just us. And I will NEVER hurt you again," Maura cooed softly, keeping herself completely immobilised as she watched trembling, pale fingers approaching her face. Her breath had ceased as soon as Jane had started to move, and she felt light-headed as the hand made gentle contact with her cheek. _I'm crying,_ Maura realised with a start when the tears were wiped from her face by cold fingers; she lifted her own hand to cover Jane's, curling her fingers protectively around those that were soothing her.

Everything was frozen as they fell into each other's eyes – hazel into brown; brown into hazel. The detective could see the torment Maura was trying to hide in deference to Jane's own suffering; she lifted her other hand to cup the blonde's face lightly. "Please don't cry, Maur. You know I hate it when you cry. I-I don't know what to do anymore… I thought I was getting better! The pills were really helping, you know? But I can see his eyes everywhere; he'll always be watching me, in my head! It's so fucked up in there; it's so confused! But I know one thing: I know none of it is your fault. I forgive you, Maura." The doctor let out a loud sob, unable to hold back any more: Jane forgave her, but she wasn't sure that she deserved it! She opened her mouth to dispute her love's words, but was unable to speak past the sobs streaming from deep in her chest. "I-I-I love y-you so mu-much, Maura!" The detective's body, too, was wracked by the violence of the emotion tearing through her, and she threw her arms around the small, fair body before her. They clung to each other, like a person drowning clutching a water-logged plank of wood in desperation, and weeped for everything they had lost and experienced… And everything they had gained.

"I love you too, Jane."

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI

They remained in the bedroom, locked in an embrace borne of despair and love alike, for over 30 minutes. When they had reluctantly drawn apart, they were both left with a feeling of awkwardness – not the awkwardness of one in the company of people one doesn't like, but rather that awkwardness that precedes the meeting of two friends newly and hesitantly discovering each other. They cleaned themselves up in the shower – individually of course – and then brushed their teeth side-by-side. And so here they were now, sitting before the television and eating their breakfast as they had done for almost a week. There was something different, however… The barrier that Jane had erected to keep Maura out was beginning to come down; the doctor had no words to explain the absolute joy this brought her. She had thus far been unable to scale the proverbial wall guarding the battered woman's psyche, but she was more than capable of picking her way over the rubble left behind by its destruction to find her friend and love.

Maura placed her half-full plate on the rickety table and turned towards Jane, who had been shovelling the food into her mouth as though she hadn't eaten in days… Which was true, as she really hadn't. "I meant what I said Jane: I love you, and I want to help you in any way I can… In any way that you'll allow me to. I know you have Dr Tshabalala to listen, but you also have me should you ever wish to talk… You know that, right?" The last part was said with just the tiniest hint of doubt and self-deprecation; Jane was a detective for a reason, and she picked up on it immediately. Her mind was clearer than it had been in days, although the fog of terror, paranoia, anxiety and pain still lurked at the outskirts of consciousness. Despite waking up from the dream completely confused and terrified, mistaking Maura for Paddy Doyle and preparing herself for more torture, the crying and hugging that had followed had flipped a switch within the detective: she was finally wholly ready to help herself get better, and to let others do the same. The fork clinked as it was dropped into her plate, and said plate made a thud as it was thunked onto the table; Jane turned to face the squirming doctor fully. "I know, Maur," she said softly, assuring the ME… and herself, "and I… I think I want to talk… Just to… To get a few things out. Just be patient with me, please. The doc told me that I've got problems – she called them "issues", which is the politically correct version of "problems" – and I know I still have a long way… A long way before I can go back to where I was… Who I was…"

Maura put her hand comfortingly on Jane's left thigh, and joined her friend in the cross-legged position so that she could focus solely on the woman before her. "Take all the time you need, Jane; I'll be here. And even if you never tell me anything, that's alright too. Whatever you're comfortable with." The dark brown eyes, suspiciously shiny as they were, reflected gratitude and a hesitant hope; her face crumpled as she cast her mind to the painful memories, and the doctor squeezed her leg in sympathy and empathy.

"He…He said he did it all for you, you know. Because I had hurt you. He made me believe I deserved what I got…" Maura's lips became a thin, tense slash across her face, and she couldn't stop the flood of anger and absolute loathing that flooded her system; she kept quiet, however, as she saw Jane descend into her mind and dredge up more memories. Jane continued: "He did so much stuff to me, but the one thing that was constant was his reason for the torture. He beat me, drugged me – tortured me – until I couldn't remember who I was, and I just wanted to die." At this, the doctor's eyes overflowed as she visualised her love, alone and suffering through such horrors… And at the hands of the person with whom she shared 50% of her genes. "But he didn't let me die, because that would be too easy… And I had to live to learn from my mistakes. I kept telling him that I love you, that I was so sorry for hurting you, but he told me that you obviously didn't feel the same about me… You chose him in the warehouse; blood is thicker than water." All of this had been delivered tonelessly, and Jane appeared waxy and lifeless as she described only a small portion of what she had been through.

The ME could no longer keep silent, the desperate need to eradicate the beliefs that had been planted into Jane's head overriding her attempt to allow her friend to speak uninterrupted. Vehemently, Maura said, "I was so stupid, Jane, for reacting the way I did. I can give so many excuses – that I was hurt when you slept with Dean instead of staying with me at the hospital, that the chaos in the warehouse muddled my brains – but the bottom line is that I made a mistake: the biggest mistake of my life! He showed me a few pictures from my life, and suddenly I put him on a pedestal as father of the year! Now, I know what a monster he is… And what a monster I am too, for hurting you so much; for putting you in this position! But he was wrong, so wrong: I LOVE YOU with all my heart and soul and all the other organs within my body! I am IN love with you, and all I feel for Doyle is the need to find him and make him suffer! Blood may scientifically be thicker than water, but both are essential to life… And I choose water, Jane; I choose you, and I hope that I'm not too late."

Throughout the first half of Maura's speech, Jane had been looking at her expressionlessly; the words "I am IN love with you" brought a flurry of emotion back onto her face – relief and love, coupled with hesitation and doubt; she had heard the words in the bedroom, but hadn't really believed them to be more than an attempt at comfort. Fish-like, the detective opened and closed her mouth several times before she found voice to respond to the doctor's proclamation. "I'm in love with you too, Maur… I just don't know how much is left of me to give to you…"

"More than enough for me, Jane; more than enough…"

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**Ah, and that's another one down! They're crawling in the right direction, and I hope you're still crawling along too ;) I would love to hear what you think about this chapter, and if you have any ideas for future interactions/storylines, please let me know that too! Fresh ideas are always welcomed… In the next chapter, we'll see more of the people in Boston, and Jane will open up to Maura some more. And Doyle? He's coming too! Keep well and safe, and have a wonderful next few days!**


	17. Chapter 16

**Hey there! :) It's been a stressful but interesting week for me, and probably for everyone else too! That's why it's always nice to write or read a story that takes one away from the real world for a few minutes… I'm honoured and humbled that people are reading, following and leaving reviews for this story, and I hope you will continue to enjoy it even though the updates aren't as frequent as I'd like! I never once dreamed that my first time writing would be even marginally successful, and I have you all to thank for changing my perception! :) Let's see where this chapter goes, shall we?**

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Cynthia waited for Jane to come back to herself after another very painful session; this was the first time they had broached what exactly was done to Jane – in detail – and both patient and doctor showed the strain. The kind-hearted and soft-spoken psychologist had never before been confronted with such unadulterated evil and maliciousness, yet it pervaded the detective's retelling of her ordeal, and the doctor's stomach roiled as the nauseating images were painted for her to see – the chilling lack of humanity with which her patient had been tortured took from her all memories of warmth and happiness; like a child in the dead of winter, she could hardly remember the days of sunlight during which she could be free to play under a clear and open sky.

The shaking brunette clenched her teeth tighter as she fought the strange feeling at the back of her throat that always preceded tears: she refused to break down in front of a stranger, albeit one that had done nothing to suggest she would hurt her. Her trust – in herself and in human-kind as a species – had been shattered completely, and she would forever be on the lookout for those who would do her harm… At the moment, she viewed everyone in the same way. All she wanted was to leave the stifling confines of this room and the pitying, disgusted face of the woman before her. She wanted to lock herself in the dank apartment and drink herself into an oblivion from which she couldn't be retrieved.

Thoughts of suicide had been nearly constant since all of this began, and Jane found herself thinking seriously of the pros that such an action held: death would bring an end to the pain, the memories, and the uncertain future. More than once in the past month she had envisioned the patterned, plastic grip of her service weapon in her hand; she had imagined herself sliding out the cartridge and inserting a single bullet. With a soft but resounding _click_ the round would be loaded into the chamber, and she would place the metal barrel into her mouth, pointing up into her pallet – the trajectory would ensure that the slug would tear through her brain, leaving behind a minced and liquefied mess of grey matter and bone. The brunette had never been artistic, but she could imagine that the splattering of red across the wall behind her would be her first and final masterpiece: a reflection of wrenching torment and human suffering.

But they had taken her service weapon as well as the gun she owned privately… She wouldn't be finding any salvation there; she hadn't stopped looking.

The past week of therapy had not stopped these macabre thoughts from invading the detective's mind, but the Prozac had started to take effect and they left her feeling confused and frightened. One moment she would be thinking of walking to the corner of her block and buying a bag of cocaine from the dealer she knew worked there nightly, with the intention of snorting a few grams and ending her life by overdose; the next moment, she would feel inexplicably hopeful, gazing at Maura and thinking of a positive and happy future. It was at those times, when her and Maura's eyes met across the small expanse between them, that she truly believed that the horrors she had been subjected to and was still suffering could be overcome.

"I-I don't really know what to say, Jane… You are an amazingly strong person to have survived what you have just told me, never mind 2 weeks of it," Dr Tshabalala trailed off with a shiver, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to wrap her mind around what she had just been told. Jane's eyes flitted around the room, avoiding the psychologist's eyes in a bid to keep herself from crying. The doctor continued, "I cannot even imagine the details of what you have been through, although you have explained this first part of your ordeal very precisely…" _In fact, I will be having nightmares for weeks to come,_ the doctor finished in her head. She used the pretence of scribbling a few notes onto the pad of paper in front of her to muster the courage to ask the next question. "Does Maura know any of what has happened?"

Cynthia was well aware that the detective was a private person, and that the latest happenings had left her seeking isolation instead of company and support. The doctor would definitely not consider herself an expert in the topic of Detective Jane Clementine Rizzoli, but she had managed to breach the surface of the façade that this woman projected for the world to see. The first few sessions they had spent together this week allowed the psychologist to build up rapport and trust, and to learn a little about the intriguing character before her, and she could see clearly the struggle that the detective was experiencing every single day. From the first time they had met, Dr Tshabalala could feel the quiet power that emanated from Jane… Today's retelling was just a trailer of a story of great strength and courage, and it only served to solidify the awe-inspiring image of Jane that the doctor had created for herself. She only hoped that the story would have a happy ending…

"No, she doesn't," Jane bit out through a tightly clenched jaw, feeling anger bubbling up from deep within. Sudden unexplained rage was yet another of the emotions that visited the detective with increased frequency now that the medications had taken some of the edge off her melancholy and depression. She had always been a volatile person, but now it seemed that even the slightest spark could ignite an explosive reaction. _How dare this doctor – this naïve, inexperienced, cushy bitch – try to steer my recovery! She knows NOTHING, and she has no right to ask such a question!_ "She might have read my file, but I haven't fucking told her anything… So she doesn't know shit! And you will NOT force me to change that 'for the good of my recovery'," the last phrase was said in a mocking impersonation of the psychologist's faint exotic accent. Jane was sitting at the edge of the couch, looking ready to pounce up and attack at the slightest movement from the woman seated across the low table; her claws were sheathed as she squeezed her fingers into white-knuckled fists.

The doctor had feared such a reaction from her patient: she knew that when traumatised people were confronted with something that made them uncomfortable, many responded by becoming defensive and sometimes violent. The human instinct of survival was strong, and when its host felt threatened it came to the forefront and made itself known. Cynthia could see that Jane didn't want Maura to know the details of what she had been through. What she hadn't yet determined is whether this desire to keep everything hidden stemmed from a lack of trust in the medical examiner, or a need to protect her from the terrors she had endured.

Placatingly, Cynthia said, "That is perfectly fine, Jane, and of course I cannot force you to do anything you do not want to do. I simply wanted to see if you were reaching out to anyone, as your recovery cannot be made completely alone. Maura, she cares about you very much; if you were to open yourself to someone, I think she would be a good choice."

Sitting stiffly, her back rod-straight, Jane allowed the doctor's words to soothe the venomous anger that had blinded her so suddenly, feeling it flowing out to leave her tired and worn. These extreme mood swings – from suicidal to murderous to joyful – had left the detective more off-balance than she had been before. Granted, there was a small measure of improvement when it came to her panic and going out amongst people, but there was still much work to be done. Nothing could be healed and forgotten in only a week.

"I think that is enough for today, Jane," Cynthia finally said after a few moments of silent contemplation. Jane was quick to get to her feet and move to the door, but she waited there for the doctor to open it and bring the appointment to its formal conclusion. As soon as this had been done, the now-expressionless brunette exited into the waiting room, coming into sight of its single inhabitant: her best friend (_and the woman I loved – am I still capable of love?,_ Jane thought to herself) Dr Maura Isles. Said doctor had already settled that day's account with the young, red-headed secretary, and had spent the past hour patiently waiting for the session to finish. With a bright smile upon Jane's emergence from Dr Tshabalala's office, Maura stood and stepped towards her friend; the smile dimmed as she became aware of Jane's tense demeanour and blank face. She threw a questioning glance at the psychologist, who only shrugged in response, and then held her hand hesitantly for the detective to take. "Shall we go, Jane?" the ME asked with forced enthusiasm, attempting to mask her ever-present and now enhanced worry. Jane merely grunted in reply as she ignored Maura's hand and walked past her without a glance for the '_shrink'_. "Goodbye, Cynthia," the blonde said softly, "We will be here at the same time tomorrow." "Of course, my dear," came the psychologist's reply; Maura had already turned away to follow the hastily retreating brunette.

The car ride to and from Dr Tshabalala's office usually took 20 minutes, and that period of time was usually spent in silence with Jane staring out the window and Maura trying to concentrate on driving while suppressing her urge to look at the woman seated next to her. Today proved to be different. "I want to go to the park," the detective said suddenly, surprising the doctor enough to spare her a quick, concerned glance. "OK," Maura replied slowly, confused with this break in routine. "Which one would you like to visit?" Jane pointed through the windshield and Maura followed her finger to see the small patch of grass and trees that was coming up to the right of the intersection ahead. Indicating her intentions, she directed the car into the parking lot and, upon bringing the car to a halt, turned off the engine and looked at her companion expectantly. Before she could say anything, Jane had already opened her door and left the vehicle.

The agitated detective had simply wanted a place to think and sort out some of the confusion that was over-running her fatigued mind. The roads and foot-traffic at this time of day were quiet enough that she didn't fear being caught in large crowds of people and having a panic attack. As soon as she had jumped out of the car, she had reached into her inner coat pocket and drawn out a crumpled packet of cigarettes; she promptly tapped one out and, using a cheap yellow lighter, lit the end. She quickly took a deep inhalation, drawing the carcinogenic but soothing smoke deep into her lungs.

Maura had exited the car more slowly and, upon seeing her friend lighting her cigarette, frowned slightly; the doctor had always hated the nasty habit, and watching someone she cared so much about destroying her health was difficult. Her heart clenched at her best friend's obvious turmoil, and she wondered – not for the first time – what exactly her love had been through. Sure, she had read the reports and seen some photographs, but the doctor cared more about the psychological wounds that Jane bore alone. She wanted to lighten that burden, but at the same time she was absolutely terrified of finding out the details of the entire ordeal… For Jane though, for the person she loved, she would shove aside fear and uncertainty. She watched as the detective moved towards the single bench in the small park, all the while puffing on her cigarette as though it were a lifeline; she followed at an unobtrusive distance and, when Jane finally sat down, she joined her.

The spent butt was thrown to the ground at her feet, and Jane crushed the embers out with the heel of her boot. Looking up at the weeping willows set on the backdrop of an overcast sky, she sent her mind back to the torture…

_It seemed as though she had been shivering forever, the constant motion chattering her teeth and causing her over-worked muscles to seize. It had been a few hours since Doyle had given her a dose of LSD, but the effects were still running rampant in her body. It had become nearly impossible to differentiate reality from the illusions of her abused brain, and it had been a long time since she had last had even a brief respite from the psychological torture._

_By now, the deeper wounds on her back, buttocks and legs had become infected, oozing a greenish-yellow pus. For days she had been lying in her own filth, the rancid stench of septic sores enveloping her. She lay in a pool of blood and sticky pus; the wet environment and contaminated flesh a prime breeding ground for bacteria of all kinds._

_Agonisingly, she pushed herself into a sitting position and took a few minutes to get her panting under control; the squishing sounds of her flesh against the fluid-painted ground would have made her vomit if she had anything in her empty, aching stomach. Gradually Jane became aware of a soft touch on her blazing back, a lukewarm sponge soothing the weeping wounds; soft whispers reached her ears, and she struggled to turn in order to find the source of this comfort. "Maura," she breathed out in wonder, "You're here. You found me!" The doctor smiled in reassurance and continued her ministrations while saying gently, "I will always find you, Jane, and I'm here to take care of you and get you away from all of this." The broken battered woman started crying, and Maura halted the healing strokes of her hands to cup Jane's face in love and comfort. "Doyle was lying about everything, my love; I'm not mad at you, and I only want what's best for you."_

_The detective had thought that they were alone, but this supposition was proven incorrect as chilling laughter began in the dark corner; she would be able to place that laughter anywhere, and she watched on in fear as Doyle stepped from the shadows. Jane was frozen in place. "Did you really think for a moment, Detective Rizzoli, that it would be that easy to escape? Are you so stupid?" he exclaimed with a malicious smirk. Jane didn't know how to respond._

_"Yes, daddy, actually I think she is that stupid." Jane's head snapped violently to face the woman crouched behind her and, where before she found the gentle eyes of her saviour, she was now confronted with the leering sardonic smile of Maura Doyle. "Really, Jane, you should know better than anyone that blood is thicker than water!" The shivering started up again, and the detective tried to drag herself away from the laughing father and daughter; her nails scrabbled for purchase against the concrete ground as she struggled to escape from this nightmare. "No! No, Maura! I love you! Please, I love you!" This seemed only to crack the pair up even more, until they were heaving from their merriment at Jane's desperation and pain._

_"She's not only stupid, daddy, she's naïve!" Maura snorted out with a chuckle, their roaring laughter having died down. Jane couldn't move – couldn't get away – and so she simply lay down where she was and curled into a tight ball. "This isn't real, this isn't real…" she chanted softly to herself as she clutched her knees to her chest in the foetal position._

_"Oh Jane, but it is real…"_

_She didn't know what to believe anymore._

"Maura?" The doctor was startled out of her reverie by Jane's tentative voice, and she immediately turned her entire body on the bench so that she could face Jane fully. "Yes, Jane?" After just over a minute of listening to the rustling leaves and the cars crossing at the nearby intersection, Maura thought that Jane wouldn't continue… "Do I disgust you?" finally came the hesitant, unsure question.

The doctor was stunned. "Absolutely not, Jane! What would make you think such a thing?" She wanted desperately to pull the brunette into an embrace but thought it best to let her dictate the extent of any interaction – physical or otherwise. "Because… Because I'm broken, Maura. Because I have so many scars I can hardly see skin anymore. Because every single day is a struggle. Because I would rather just fucking kill myself than suffer anymore!" Well, the blonde had intended to keep a small distance between them but she could no longer sit idly: she scooted right up next to the detective until their thighs were touching and extended her arms around the slightly trembling woman. The world around them fell away completely as their embrace became the centre of their universe; only they existed, and in such a world their friendship and devotion to each other gave them the ability to overcome everything. "Cesar Chavez once said: 'We draw our strength from the very despair in which we have been forced to live. We shall endure.'" Maura allowed a moment to pass so that she was sure of Jane's full attention. "There are no words – magic or otherwise – with the ability to take away your pain just with their having been spoken. Recovery can only come in small steps, not leaps and bounds, through a combination of self-reflection and external support. I want to be that support, Jane; I want to help you so, so much I feel like every organ within me is on fire. When we first met, you befriended me and gave me the family and love that I had always yearned for and never received; you gave me a reason to enjoy life – to live – and to be a better person. Without you, I would be nothing. So, NO, you do not disgust me, and you never will. I love you, as a friend and hopefully one day as a partner and lover, and I'm here and ready to hold you when you feel you can't go on anymore. If you were to die, Jane – if you were to give up – just know that I would be coming along with you, because I will NEVER again leave your side. Do you understand?"

By this point, Jane's face was awash with tears and she buried her head against Maura's chest unmindful of the scant passer-by who looked in the direction of the soft sobbing. Maura stroked the dark brown hair as a mother would a child, and made meaningless but comforting sounds to keep the detective grounded. After what felt an eternity to Jane, she lifted red-rimmed eyes to look into the watery ones of her friend. "I want to show you my scars," was said with a childish hope and more than a little uncertainty. "Can I, Maura?" The doctor bent her head to kiss the sweaty forehead resting on her shoulder, and responded with confidence: "Of course, my love. I will do whatever you ask of me."

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI RIRIRI

They had just arrived at the apartment, and Jane made her way towards the bedroom; Maura hung back, unsure of what exactly would happen next. She hadn't allowed Jane to see just how frightened and apprehensive she was of what was to come. _I'm going to see first hand what that bastard did to her!_ She sat uncomfortably on the couch and waited; she didn't have to do so for long. "You can come in, Maura…" came her detective's voice from the bedroom. As the doctor entered she couldn't help but to close her eyes briefly, trying to prepare herself for the evidence of her _father's _evil and her best friend's suffering. She was greeted with an empty room, but quickly approached the ajar door leading into the lighted bathroom. "Jane? I'm here… Can I come in there?" She just had to make sure one last time before everything exploded around her. "Yes… Yeah, Maura, you can…"

The honey blonde stepped into the bathroom and immediately came to a halt as she was greeted by the sight of a naked Jane Rizzoli standing akimbo for her to see better. Before all of this had happened, Maura would have had difficulty pulling her eyes away from Jane's generous breasts and toned muscles, but now all she could see was the damage that had been wrought on such a perfect body… It was still perfect to her – the scars and wounds a testament to the detective's strength. Jane stood completely still and watched as Maura moved to stand right before her, within touching distance; the doctor's cheeks already had rivers running down them, and her fingers reached tentatively to touch the bare skin of Jane's abdomen. She lightly traced a long, deep still-healing wound from just under Jane's right breast to the crease of her left thigh, and the brunette couldn't prevent the shiver that assailed her. Systematically, Maura did the same to all the other cuts, welts and scars: from the whip lashes marring her entire back, creating valleys and craters on the once-smooth skin, to the burn marks on her arms; from the brand of a four leaf clover embedded above her heart to the deep gouges scoring her thighs.

Finally, Maura reached the scar stretching across Jane's face. With infinite care, she traced it using the lightest touch of her fingers, starting at the corner of Jane's eye until she reached the corner of her lips. Their eyes met: fear of rejection and uncertainty on love and empathy. Maura had mapped every single centimetre of the wonderful body before her: every line and curve and scar would remain forever in her mind. She consciously had to push down the howl of heartbreak and anger that wanted to rip out of her throat, projecting instead all the devotion she felt for the woman before her. She would deal with the other emotions later when Jane was ready to speak in depth about what had happened; when she was well and they could seek retribution together.

Jane's breath caught in her throat as she watched the emotions flitting across Maura's beautiful face, and her heart began thumping at great speed as the distance between them became smaller. Their noses touched and their foreheads bumped gently together and rested there. "I love you," Maura whispered reverently, "and nothing will ever change that."

And then their lips met.

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**Okey dokey! That's another chapter down :) I had said that our friends from Boston would be making an appearance, but I was taken in a different direction during my typing... They will definitely be with us soon, though! Please let me know what you thought of that, and tell me what you think of how the story is progressing and about everyone's emotions... Thank you for reading, as always! I always wait with great anticipation to read reviews :) Have a great day/night, and keep safe and well!**


	18. Chapter 17

_Continuation from previous chapter…_

The moment when their lips met the world came to a complete standstill; there was neither pain, nor anger, nor suffering within the embrace of the thick, comforting blanket that had enveloped them both. For a short while their lips simply touched, remaining still and giving them the opportunity to come to terms with what exactly was happening: the world was changing and – for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime – it was doing so for the better. Slowly at first, Jane began moving her lips against Maura's and tentatively reached her tongue out to trace the luscious contours of the doctor's mouth; for her part, Maura suppressed the urge to press back and allowed Jane to explore and become accustomed to the soft wetness.

Jane drew back slightly to glance into the darkened hazel eyes of the woman before her, and the look that passed between them communicated all the fears, desires, uncertainties and joy that the pair felt. "I'm done with thinking, Maur," came a whisper from the detective, and the blonde couldn't help gazing at the pink mouth from which the sentence had been spoken. Their bodies were, by now, pressed so tightly together – naked skin on clothes – that it was nearly impossible to tell where one person ended and the other began… And that was exactly how they liked it. Jane's hands on Maura's face pulled the doctor in for another kiss, and the second meeting was even more profoundly life-altering than the first. They both gave of themselves equally, with each submitting to the other in a show of loving give-and-take. Jane once more traced Maura's lips and the ME's response was to open them and grant her love entry. The detective accepted the invitation with vigour and passion, and as their tongues met for the first time they both released soft sighs at finally having found their rightful place – in each other's arms.

They took many minutes thoroughly exploring and enjoying the newly-ignited passion, both of them accepting each other fully and without judgement. Jane shivered and when Maura felt the goosebumps on the skin under her hands, she became aware of just how naked her detective was – the shiver was likely just as much due to the cold permeating the drafty room as it was due to passion. Reluctantly, she broke off the kiss but left her forehead against Jane's; they gazed into each other's eyes, not breaking the connection even when the doctor drew back to retrieve the brunette's clothes from the ground behind her. They both knew that they were not ready to take their relationship further than this, and the detective pulled on her sweatpants and hoodie slowly – there was nothing to rush for.

"Would you like to watch a movie, Jane?" Maura enquired hopefully, feeling comfortable and 'normal' for the first time since the warehouse shooting. "Yeah, I think I'd really like that," came the response from the softly smiling Jane. She reached her hand out to the ME who quickly laced their fingers together and placed their entwined hands to the centre of her chest, just above her heart. They took a moment more just allowing the happiness to flow through them, and then made their way through the bedroom and to the couch. Jane sat first and then pulled Maura to sit close next to her, feeling contentment sweep her soul when Maura curled her legs beneath herself and laid her head on Jane's shoulder. The detective reached for the remote control and turned on the television, skimming through the channels until finding an old-looking movie featuring a cast of unknown actors and actresses.

They both settled down and Jane stretched her right arm around Maura's waist to pull the doctor even closer; they both closed their eyes in the safe haven they had created. The silence was broken only by the soft chatter emitting from the TV and then, finally, Maura's tenderly spoken: "Thank you so much for letting me see, Jane. You are beautiful, scars and all, and I love you so much."

The dark-haired woman let the lovingly spoken words caress her, content to remain in the same place forever. However, her inherently doubtful and cautious nature – which had been strengthened by the ordeal she had endured – would not let her enjoy the reprieve for long without asking a few questions she was aching to know the answers to. "Do you think we need to talk about this, Maur?" Jane asked hesitantly. "What do you mean, Jane?" the doctor asked, genuinely baffled. "I mean, do you think we should talk about what just happened in the bathroom? Our relationship isn't going to stay the same, Maur, and I'm actually pretty scared…" the detective's voice was laced with uncertainty when she turned to look into the eyes that were directed towards her, Maura's head still in position on her shoulder. "It's been… hard… and I just don't want something that means so much to me to be only the result of suffering and hardships… I don't want our relationship to be stained with what I went through, and I don't want you to bring yourself down just so that you can help me and keep me happy. You didn't do this out of pity, did you Maura?" the last part was asked apprehensively, Jane's lowered self-confidence coming out strongly.

The doctor felt a momentary rush of hurt that Jane would think that of her, but she quickly tempered this misplaced feeling with the fact that the detective was in a very vulnerable position and in desperate need of assurance and support. Maura lifted her head slightly and caught the other woman's gaze. "It was most definitely not out of pity, Jane. I've loved you for a very long time. You became my first best friend and, for months now, the first person I've ever truly loved; I never knew what it felt like until, unexpectedly, I felt myself holding my breath and my heart beating out of control every time I saw you. I hid my feelings, something I've become very good at, because I was scared of losing the best thing in my life. I resigned myself to friendship, but I've felt something more than that for a long time."

For what felt like the hundredth time that day, Jane had tears streaking her face; Maura reached up and gently wiped them away with the pads of her fingers. "I've never been in a relationship with a woman though, Maur… And I suck at relationships anyway! I don't want to mess this up, and I don't want to lose you! God, what will ma say? She's always wanted me to get married to a nice man and have kids! But I never wanted that, and now I know why… I'm a lesbian, aren't I? I guess all those jerks always calling me a dyke were right, huh?"

"Sexuality is a very fluid thing, Jane; according to Kinsey's scale, most people are neither fully heterosexual nor fully homosexual, but rather fall within the spectrum in between. Liking me does not necessarily make you a lesbian, not that there is anything wrong with that… As for what your mother would say, she is a very warm, loving and understanding woman, and I'm almost certain that she will always love you the same regardless of what choices you make, and whom you choose to be with. If you are willing to give this a chance, Jane, I would like to pursue this new relationship and see where it takes us. Just know this: I love you with everything I have, and you will always have my friendship and devotion no matter what happens!" Silence descended upon them again, but this time it was one of contemplation and comfort. Night-time had crept upon them as they spoke, and they were both surprised when they burst into wide-mouthed yawns almost simultaneously.

Upon seeing this they both laughed lightly, before a more serious expression settled on Jane's tired but hopeful face. "I don't 'like' you, Maura… I love you. I adore you and I would like nothing more than to be with you. I just… Can we take it slow? Slow_ly_, I mean," she added with another soft chuckle, eliciting a broad grin from the doctor. "There's still a lot I have to tell you about what happened – a lot I have to deal with before I can give you all of myself – but I'd really like to try…"

"And that's all I ask of you, Jane," Maura said softly as she grasped both of the detective's larger hands in her own smaller ones. "Now, let's go to bed and get some sleep, and we can talk about this more in the morning. How does that sound?" In response, Jane stood up and stretched her back, wincing slightly as it cracked, and reached down to pull the blonde up with her. The next 20 minutes were spent preparing for bed, their night-time routine (perfected on the numerous sleepovers they've had) flowing perfectly. They finally settled on their usual sides and the smallish bed meant that they were in close proximity; they both held themselves stiffly, however, suddenly aware of how close they were and how different their relationship had become. This didn't last long, though. Jane turned on her side and laid her right hand tentatively on Maura's soft, warm tummy. Maura gave a light shiver at the feeling of Jane's palm against her abdomen, and then turned onto her side and scooted as close to the brunette as she could, pulling the larger hand to rest in the small of her back and nestling her head into the crook of Jane's slender neck. "Is this fine?" Maura asked, and the detective responded with a softly spoken "more than fine" and a tightening of her embrace.

They soon fell asleep, entwined intimately together and basking in the warmth they were generating together…

_She was walking along the trail in the park; dusk had just passed and full night had descended. It had been a few minutes since she had last seen anyone else, and she was aware of every noise around her: the sounds of crickets and birds settling down for the night and the whistling of the wind through the gaps between the closely-packed trees. And footsteps… She could definitely hear footsteps. She started walking a little faster and, glancing behind her, saw a looming figure close on her heels. He was holding something in his hands: a knife! Or was it an apple?_

_Feeling the anger and violence bubbling up within her, she stopped suddenly and turned to face her stalker straight on; he stopped too, taunting and playing with her, it seemed. He was acting… arrogant… or hesitant… maybe scared... He rushed forward quickly, and Jane raised her hands to deflect the knife. She took the opening he presented her and punched him solidly in the gut, causing him to double over. She punched him again, this time in the nose, and fell on top of him as he went down. Was he putting his hands up to defend his face? Were his words pleas for her to stop her attack? By this point Jane was in a frenzy, and she continued to punch the man… boy… all over, stopping only when she tired and a feeling of victory and satisfaction entered her mind._

_She stood up and brushed off her knees, taking another look at the form of her would-be mugger laying unconscious on the ground. Where she had expected to see a large hulking figure grasping a knife, she instead saw a scrawny, dirty boy clutching a half-eaten apple. He was just a boy…_

Jane jerked upright with a loud gasp, heartbeat thundering in her ears and sweat dripping down her back and between her breasts; she was completely disoriented and she whipped her head desperately back and forth trying to ascertain her whereabouts. Slowly, she became aware of a hand rubbing soothing circles on her back, and whispered words of comfort: "It's OK Jane, you're alright now. It was just a dream. Just a nightmare, Jane. No one can hurt you anymore…" This continued for another few minutes, until Jane had finally calmed down enough to be able to talk. Maura had been sleeping peacefully when she was wrenched from a pleasant dream, starring herself and her love, by a sharp elbow in the ribs; she had quickly come awake to find the trembling, drenched woman and immediately set about trying to calm her down, her own heart racing. Gradually, they both stilled – their soft breaths punctuating the silence, and Jane ensconced within Maura's arms.

With growing clarity and horror Jane turned to face the doctor, breaking the embrace she had felt so safe within only seconds ago. "I-I attacked someone, Maura… I b-beat a boy… a BOY… into a p-pulp!" She couldn't meet the honey blonde's gaze, expecting to see the disgust and judgement that she herself felt, and instead bowed her head and let the tears of shame flow freely. Maura was stunned very briefly, but she determinedly grabbed the detective's upper arms, saying, "Look at me, Jane." The brunette's head remained down. "Look at me," was repeated softly but with a silent strength that Jane could no longer refuse; she looked up, hesitantly meeting the hazel eyes gazing concernedly – but non-judgementally – at her. "What happened?"

"I… I was in a b-bad way, Maur… I went for a walk, and I was drunk, and anxious, and paranoid and… God! I was completely fucked in the head! Someone was following me… in the park… and I-I thought that he had a knife… I thought he had a knife, but it was a _bloody _apple, Maur! He-he was just a kid, probably homeless, and I beat him up because I thought he was gonna attack me! He kept on asking me to stop… Please stop… Oh god, what have I done?" With the last sentence Jane's gaze turned pleading, looking at the doctor for answers. Maura's eyes held only support, love and compassion; Jane turned away from them – those weren't the answers she wanted… They weren't something she felt she deserved. "I have to turn myself in… I-he needs justice," the broken detective whispered, trying to make her best friend understand, not realising that said friend already did.

"Are you sure, Jane? Are you sure it isn't really as you had thought it was, that there really wasn't a man with a knife?" Jane simply nodded mutely, and Maura felt a clenching in her chest. _When will this all stop? When will she finally have some peace? _The doctor wrapped her arms around the detective's neck and pulled her into her chest, letting Jane's forehead rest against the front of her shoulder. She glanced at the wristwatch which she had forgotten to take off before bed, seeing that it was nearly 06:00 and knowing that the sun would be up soon. She pushed her nose into the wild dark brown curls and drew Jane's scent in, committing it to her extensive memory. "Let me make you some breakfast and then we can go to the station," the blonde whispered. "I'll be with you every step of the way."

RIRIRIRIRIRIRI

They had spent the past 3 hours at the station. They had left the apartment having barely touched their pancakes and drove tensely to the police. There, Jane had approached one of the officers (with Maura by her side) telling him that she had assaulted someone and was turning herself in. After being interrogated for 2 hours, and after the officer had searched for a record of any young men having been attacked around the time given by Jane, she had been released. "We haven't had anyone come in fitting the story you told us, and we can't hold you without any evidence," the middle-aged police officer had told her.

Jane and Maura exited the official building, Maura trying but failing to get the detective to talk to her. They crossed the street, the ME running to keep up with the angry stride of her friend, and came to a halt next to a stone dustbin. Without any warning, Jane lashed out and kicked the hard stone, then turned around angrily as though looking for something else to hit. "Jane! Jane, stop! You're going to hurt yourself, and that's not going to help anyone!" Maura planted herself firmly in front of the seething woman and held her hands out. When the brunette finally met the doctor's gaze, she seemed to deflate. "I really need a smoke," she said, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a cigarette and lighter. She quickly lit it up, and exhaled the smoke with a heavy sigh.

"You know that smoking is very bad for you, Jane. In fact, most cancers have been found—"

"I know, Maur," Jane cut her off before she could recount all the facts she knew about the carcinogenicity of tobacco and nicotine. "I just don't want you to destroy yourself, Jane…" the doctor said dejectedly, resigning herself to inhaling the second hand smoke from the cigarette tightly clutched between the brunette's fingers. Hearing the misery in Maura's voice, Jane finally looked – really looked – at her friend: she was exhausted, her make-up not up to the job of hiding the dark circles under her eyes, and she seemed to have aged years in just a few months. The detective knew that Maura was only trying to help, and she felt all the anger drain away in the face of the tired sadness she was confronted with. "I'm sorry, Maur," was all she said as she dropped the half-smoked cigarette to the ground and used her heel to put it out. "I just… I'm ready to go home, but I can't leave here without paying for what I did…"

The blonde inhaled the fresh air that now surrounded them, the noxious fumes of the cancer stick finally clearing; she took a step closer to Jane, tilting her head slightly upwards so that she could meet her eyes. "You said he was homeless, did you not? Why don't we try to find him in the park?" Maura asked quietly, trying her best to provide a solution. This suggestion brought a glint of determination back into Jane's eyes, and she surprised doctor when she grabbed her and crushed her in a tight embrace. "You are so smart, Maur!"

The park was relatively empty at mid-morning, the joggers having left hours ago and the business people having yet to come out for their lunch break. The pair had already covered a large area, and Jane was starting to doubt that they would find the boy for whom they were searching. "Jane, I think there's someone lying under that tree there," Maura said while pointing to the tree. "Let's take a look," Jane responded and set off towards the aforementioned tree. "Hello?" she asked as she drew close enough to be heard, but not close enough to appear threatening to the blanket-swaddled form. "I'm Jane Rizzoli, and I'd just like to ask you something," she continued, Maura keeping quiet at her back and allowing her to take the lead. The figure stirred, and two dark brown eyes gazed out from the shroud of blankets; the face was obscured.

Suddenly, the beady eyes grew wide and the small form shuffled backwards hastily, trying to burrow into the tree at its back. The hasty movement caused the boy's face to be exposed, and Jane knew for sure that this was the boy she had attacked. "S-Sorry, madam! I-I didn't m-mean to try t-taking your stuff, I s-swear! P-Please, I don't have n-nothing to give you! I'm sorry!" he cried out, cringing away from the assault he feared would be unleashed upon him. Two hearts – both Jane's and Maura's – broke at the homeless boy's terrified stuttering, and they crouched down so that they would appear less threatening.

Jane didn't really know how to comfort to the miserable, distrustful form before her; he still had a few bruises and small scars from her vicious punches. She said softly, "I'm the one who's sorry, kid. I was out of my mind, and I didn't mean to hurt you… Do you want to report me to the police? They can help you, and they'll put me away so that you don't need to worry about me. I'm really sorry…" The boy had stopped shaking so much, and he now looked at the detective curiously. "But I'm the one who wanted to mug you… Why would I want to turn you in? I tried to do something bad, I was caught, and I was punished… Everything seems about right," the young man said, wisdom beyond his years obvious in his voice. He had shed the blankets from his shoulders, and stood up on twig-thin, bare legs; the women also stood. "Let's call it even, alright?" he continued saying, holding out a grubby hand for Jane to shake.

"Kid, I… Are you sure about this? I did a real number on you, and then I just left you out here…" Jane said hesitantly, not wanting to accept the easy way out. The man just indicated his hand, and the detective reluctantly nodded her head. His grasp was stronger than his lanky frame suggested, and he gave a small smirk. "Lady, you have a mean left hook," he said with a playful grimace. Jane cringed in embarrassment and guilt. This boy – _man_, she corrected herself – is so mature, and so strong. He had been beaten and left for dead, and now here he was, shaking his attacker's hand and joking. She asked, "Can I do anything for you? Is there something you need, something I can help you with?"

The homeless man regarded her seriously, and finally said, "Well, I do feel like a fresh hotdog today. They're $3 down the road. Think you can spare some change?" He finished with a cheeky expression, and a surprisingly handsome smile. Jane found herself sputtering, unable to respond to his playful question. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her battered wallet, opening it up and extracting all the money she had within – about $50 in total. She didn't feel that was enough to repay the man for his forgiveness, and so she turned to Maura to ask if she had any more cash on her. "That's more than enough for a hotdog or two, lady!" the man's lively voice said before the detective could ask her friend, and he grabbed the money from Jane's hands. The women watched on in stunned silence as he picked up his few belongings and walked off, throwing back a quick "thanks" before disappearing from their sight.

Finally, Jane let out a relieved but tired sigh. "I want to go home, Maur…"

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**That's it for now, folks! Thank you for all your previous reviews, and I really look forward to reading about your thoughts regarding this chapter… I've tied up a few loose ends in Chicago, and now it's time for the ladies to go back to Boston and their family. And it's time for them to start looking for Doyle… Duh duh dum! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope you will continue reading! Be safe!**


	19. Chapter 18

**Hey everyone! :) I'm so, so sorry for the delay! Exams left very little time for any recreational activities, unfortunately, but they're over for now! To the people who review after each and every chapter: you have no idea how happy it makes me to see that you are following and enjoying! Thank you so, so much! To all the guests and new people reading, thank you too! Let's see where this chapter goes, shall we? ;)**

* * *

The drive had been silent so far, and they were barely halfway to Boston – home. Maura was driving the detective's crown vic as Jane had been too nervous and high-strung to concentrate on the road. Jane had been staring out of the window for the past 2 hours, and Maura was at a loss as to how she could draw the brunette out of the reverie she had descended into. The past day and a half had been tense, ever since Jane had decided that she wanted to return to Boston; they had spent the time settling matters in Chicago: collecting the few belongings strewn about the apartment, and then arguing with and paying the landlord for breakages, after which they had gone to Dr Tshabalala to say their farewells and show their gratitude. Although Jane had only had a few appointments with the Psychiatrist, the changes that her help and guidance had provoked were profound and very welcome. Jane – someone who had never before understood the purpose of "shrinks", and who could never understand why anyone would want to subject themselves to that kind of mental torture – was actually sad to leave the doctor behind; she felt comfortable with her, and would miss being able to speak freely without fearing judgment or pity. Sure, she could find someone in Boston, but Cynthia Tshabalala had already made such an impact that Jane was doubtful anyone would be able to take her place.

At the moment, the detective was staring out the window, watching the passing scenery with a blank mind. As the Chicago skyline had fallen behind them, she had been overcome with apprehension at returning home: she was scared of the reaction of her family and friends, and she was fearful at her own reaction to being back where all the problems began… And where she would be easily accessible to Doyle and his men should they decide that they weren't finished with her. She wanted to be strong, and God knew that she wanted to make that bastard pay for what he had done, but she was terrified; he had broken her, and only now was the damage being mended. She had been made a victim before, by both Hoyt and Dominic; they had hurt her and beaten her down, and what she experienced at their hands was by no means trivial – it was those experiences that had shaped her and helped her to become stronger and harder. They still haunted her, but they were a part of her past… Doyle was still in the present, and the effects of the ordeal she had undergone were all encompassing.

Maura, meanwhile, had been wracking her brain to find something neutral they could talk about; in the past, the silences between the two friends had been comfortable and they had both been happy to cultivate them and let them reflect the contentment they felt in each other's presence. Now, they had become drawn-out and awkward, and the doctor didn't have the social prowess necessary to break them.

She clenched the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles whitening on the black leather, and spared a glance at the brooding woman beside her. She had been so happy when Jane had decided that she wanted to return home: Maura knew that family was a huge part of the detective's life, and she felt that her return would benefit not only Jane in her recovery but also her friends and family… They needed to be able to see Jane for themselves – to assure themselves that she was alive, and that there was hope that she would once again be the woman she was before everything that had happened. At the moment, said woman was squirming in her seat – her first movement since she had plopped into the car over 2 hours ago. "Are you alright, Jane?" Maura finally asked, desperate to retrieve the bond that had always lain between them.

"Yes," came the terse response, the brunette obviously not as keen as the doctor to repair what had been rended. Maura whipped her head to face forward again, the rejection moistening her eyes. _Why must my amygdala be connected with my lachrymal glands,_ the blonde questioned, not for the first time. Embarrassingly, she couldn't hold back a soft sniffle; this immediately caught Jane's attention. Maura's pain had always drawn Jane, igniting a fierce protectiveness and desire to comfort and soothe. Even now, when everything was in turmoil and nothing seemed safe, the sad look on the ME's face pulled at Jane's soul. She exhaled slowly, trying to clear the fog that had obscured all thought, and reached her hand cautiously towards Maura's thigh; she placed it there gently, and waited for a reaction from the driver. The lines on Maura's face smoothed nearly instantaneously, and Jane saw the quick flick of the doctor's eyes downwards towards her thigh; leaving one hand on the steering wheel, she placed her other under Jane's and then hesitantly turned it over to intertwine their fingers.

A few minutes later, a large sign on the side of the road welcomed them to a small town positioned next to the highway. Feeling Jane's need to stop for a little, as well as her own need for a toilet, Maura asked, "Would you like to stop for some coffee, Jane? Maybe they'll have donuts too!" The detective turned to Maura and gazed at her with suspicion on her face; the doctor, feeling the scrutiny, cast a quick glimpse at her passenger. "What?" she asked worriedly, not understanding the expression on the detective's face and wondering if she had said anything to warrant it. Jane remained silent for a few more seconds, then said, "I'm just… surprised… is all. I mean, Dr Maura Isles encouraging me to eat something full of carbs and deep-fried? Are you feeling alright, Maur?" Only now did the blonde notice the slight joking twinkle in Jane's eyes and hear the light tone of voice; her face broke out into a huge grin, and she couldn't help the laugh that escaped her mouth. _It feels so good to laugh!_ Maura thought.

"But Detective Rizzoli, I've heard that the diner in this particular town makes the best pastries in North America!" the doctor said with a grin, knowing that the statement was absolute nonsense; she had never even heard of this town before today. "And I'm sure all of the ingredients are sourced fresh from their own back yards," Jane supplied with a raised eyebrow, as they both noticed the cows and goats grazing, without a care in the world, right next to the road. They shared a look, and then both gave a lively laugh.

"I love hearing you laugh, Jane," Maura said more seriously, as she realised how dearly she had missed the playful banter and friendship she had so carelessly endangered… And for the sake of an absolute bastard. She squeezed the hand within her own, vowing never to let her go – and never to run from her – ever again. Jane picked up on the sadness and regret that had entered Maura's voice, and she pulled their entwined hands to her mouth; she placed a kiss on each of the doctor's knuckles before replying, "And I love making you laugh, Maur."

The car rolled to a stop outside what looked to be the only eatery in town, and the hush created when the engine was switched off seemed crushing in its intensity. Jane spoke into the silence: "I'm scared, Maur… I'm scared of going back, and I'm scared that I won't be able to deal with everything." She risked a quick glance at Maura and, seeing the intent expression on her face, knew she had her full attention. "What if Doyle decides that he isn't done with me? He has guys everywhere… I'll never be safe! And I can't even protect myself… I'm tired and weak, and just the thought of him fills me with such terror that I know seeing him in person would kill me! I'm not strong enough to go through it again, Maur… I mean, I panic every time there's a loud noise! I need to drink myself to sleep every night just so that I can get a few hours without nightmares! I just don't think I can do this…" She trailed off, and Maura's stomach roiled at the hopelessness she could hear in Jane's voice.

The detective had turned away from Maura to stare out of the passenger window, probably to hide the tears that the ME knew were streaming from her eyes. Maura spoke to the back of her head, willing Jane to turn and look at her: "You are the strongest and most amazing person I know, Jane, and you will get through this. And you don't need to do it alone; you have your mother, your brothers, Frost, Korsak… and me. We will always be with you, and Doyle will have to get through all of us before he can get to you! But we won't let him get to you anyway… Because we're going to go after him first! He's going to pay, Jane, don't doubt that for a moment! You're getting so much better… you're not so uncomfortable being outside anymore, and you don't drink or smoke so much now! And you smell much better too." This last sentence was said with a small smile, Maura wanting to bring a small bit of levity into the conversation; Jane had always used sarcasm and humour to keep herself upright during difficult cases, and the doctor thought that it would help her in this situation too… She hoped. Maura had not always been the most understanding of the finer nuances of humour!

The detective gave an unladylike snort and turned to look at Maura with affection; her fears hadn't been completely erased – it would take time and a hell of a lot of patience for that – but she was finally starting to realise just how many people she had who cared about her… And she had Maura, the woman she had been in love with for so long, and who she had recently found returned her feelings in all ways. She was starting to see the future not as something wholly dark and threatening, although she still felt that way much of the time… Again, time and patience would change that, hopefully. Giving the doctor's warm hand a final squeeze, Jane turned to open her door. "Let's go eat some donuts," she said.

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI

"Can I get a club sandwich and some chocolate milk, Ma," said a flustered-looking and exhausted Frankie, standing at the front of the queue in the Division One café. "Coming right up, Frankie," came Angela's characteristic croaky voice, made more so by lack of sleep and worry for her children. Her police officer son had been pulling double shifts walking the beat, keeping his eyes and ears open for any word about Doyle; he hadn't had a restful day for weeks, and the strain was showing in the clothes that were looser than they had been and the eyes that, normally clear and cheerful, were clouded and droopy. Tommy had found a job at a small construction company so he too was often tired after a day at work. And Jane? She was Angela's greatest worry. She had disappeared more than 3 weeks ago, and the only information Mama Rizzoli had was that given her by Maura: she had been SMSing Angela nearly daily with short updates on Jane's condition, but that was nowhere near enough for the family matriarch. If she had it her way, her daughter would be living at home – well, Maura's home – with her mother giving her 24-hour attention; she knew her stubborn child would never agree to that though.

Angela turned to the kitchen and called out Frankie's order. "Oh, and a plate of fries, Ma," the officer added hastily. "AND FRIES, STANLEY!" she called out, causing those people in the line closest to her to cringe. Who needed a megaphone when you had Angela Rizzoli's voice! "Now go on and sit down, Frankie, and I'll bring your stuff over when it's ready. I have people to serve." "Yeah, and you'd better get to serving them, Rizzoli!" came Stanley's voice from the kitchen.

Frankie slowly made his way towards an empty table close to the wall and collapsed into the seat, placing his sweaty hat onto the chair next to him and his head into his hands. He missed his sister… Really missed her. He, Frost and Korsak (well, he and Korsak mostly just watched) had tried to track Jane down: they had traced her cellphone – it was off – and tried to track her credit card use, but to no avail. If she didn't want to be found, she wouldn't be. She was a great detective, and Frankie's hero and idol. When she had been taken, he had gone rabid trying to find her; when she had been found, he broke every time he saw her in pain. She withdrew from them all, and it hurt… He and his sister had always been close and they had – once upon a time – shared nearly everything with each other. She was always there for him, and he for her, but she wouldn't let him or anyone help her now. And Frankie accepted that, however much it pained him, because he knew that his sister needed some space. But he'd be damned if he didn't help her at all: he would track that fucker Doyle down and get justice for Jane. That he could do for her!

The _click-clack_ of heels pierced into his ruminations, and he jerked his head in the direction of the café entrance. Lots of people wear heels, he knew, but he was flooded with the hope that it was Maura who was drawing nearer. He was still somewhat angry with her for how she had reacted after the warehouse shooting, but the past 3 weeks had given him ample time to think things through; he hadn't forgiven her completely for running after pushing Jane away, but he had also realised that Doyle's actions were not hers and that she wasn't to blame for that bastard's torture of his sister. He had also realised that she was the only person who could really help Jane and, if anyone could get her to open up about what had happened, it was her. He wasn't blind – he knew that they had feelings for each other, beyond friendship, even if they still had no idea themselves. He had no problem with his sister being with a woman…

The honey blonde woman appeared in the doorway, and Frankie released the breath he didn't know he had been holding in anticipation. He opened his mouth to call her over so that he could ask about his sister; his voice caught in his throat and his eyes widened. Maura had entered the room to reveal another figure in the doorway: "Jane!" her brother yelled as he sprang up from his chair. This immediately drew everyone's attention. Frankie ran over to the woman who had frozen where she stood, a hesitant and slightly fearful expression on her face; he threw his arms around her and pulled her tightly to his chest. For a moment there was no reaction from his sister, and he began to loosen his hold in order to give Jane space. He hadn't thought before he had exclaimed her name and then invaded her personal space, and he was scared that all the attention and the contact were too much for her.

"Hey, little brother," Jane said quietly, lifting her arms and tugging him closer. She hid her face in his neck, not feeling comfortable with all the eyes that were trained on her… Voyeurs waiting for something 'exciting' to happen to the detective who had already been through so much. Maura stood just behind Frankie, gazing at the reunion with love on her face… And also a bit of apprehension as she waited to experience the younger Rizzoli's behaviour towards her – behaviour she felt was fully justified for the role she played in Jane's ordeal.

Maura had offered to take Jane straight home when they had arrived in Boston, but the detective insisted on making an appearance at the precinct. _"Just so that everyone can see I'm still alive,"_ Jane had said, with a disturbingly serious tone that belied the words that would once have been used sarcastically. So far the visit had gone smoothly, and—

"JANE!"

—it seems that things would become a little more bumpy, as Angela's screech echoed throughout the cafeteria. The Rizzoli matriarch had tears streaming from her eyes as she rushed over to her children's side, pulling her daughter into a crushing hug; she then drew back and kissed Jane's forehead and cheeks, all the while mumbling her thanks to god that her 'baby' was back and seemingly in one piece. "Ma," Jane said softly, "Please stop." Angela, not having heard her daughter's request over her incessant chatter continued to hug and fuss over Jane ("Oh, baby, you've lost so much weight!", "You look exhausted", "When was the last time you washed your hair?") "Ma! Please stop!" Jane repeated more loudly, trying to disentangle herself from her mother's smothering embrace. The woman immediately stopped and, with a confused and questioning expression, stepped back.

Maura immediately interjected herself into the reunion, sensing the emotional fatigue that had hit Jane full force now that she was back in familiar surroundings. "Angela, it's been a very long drive from Chicago and we're both feeling quite tired. Jane insisted on coming by just to let everyone know she's back, so we're just going to go upstairs to say hello to Detectives Frost and Korsak and then go home— to my house, straight afterwards. If you all come by tonight, we can talk later."

Jane had stood frozen off to the side while Maura spoke to her mother and brother, and she had begun to tremble slightly. She was feeling overwhelmed, and the various stares she was attracting were making her extremely uncomfortable; she wanted to hide, and she felt the panic welling up within. "Janie, you OK?" Frankie asked quietly, exuding worry; he had gotten an initial positive response from his sister, but he could tell that she was now trying to make herself seem as small as possible. His question had Maura at Jane's side within milliseconds, and she put her hand at the detective's back in a soothing and familiar gesture. She leaned closer in order to speak into Jane's ear without providing even more fodder for all the people listening intently: "I think we should go home now, Jane. Vince and Barry can come by later with your brothers and mother, and then we can all talk more comfortably. How does that sound?" Jane's only response was a small nod of the head, and Angela's heart broke at seeing the vulnerability in her strong daughter. Maura turned Jane towards the exit with a gentle hand at her shoulder and the small of her back. To Frankie and Angela she simply said, "Come by at around 19:00." They hardly had the time to nod their assent before the pair had disappeared, and they were left with an uneasy feeling in their stomach.

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI

They had arrived home 10 minutes ago, and Jane had wanted to have a shower; Maura could tell she just needed to be alone for a while. The doctor was in the kitchen, putting together some simple pasta for dinner, when her cellphone rang. Thinking that it was probably one of Jane's partners calling to check up on them, she answered without checking the caller ID. "Dr Isles," she spoke into the phone, awaiting the person at the other end to reply. "Hello?" she said when there was only silence.

"Maura," said a male voice, "welcome back home. I hope you appreciate what I did for you. No one hurts my daughter and gets away with it."

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**Whew, that's another one! :) Things should pick up in the next chapter as the full reunion happens and they start hunting for Doyle in earnest (probably in the chapter after the next). Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! I thought a cliffhanger suited this situation well, so I apologise if it increased your blood pressure ;) Have a wonderful day/night, and always keep safe! **


	20. Chapter 19

**Greetings! :) Your continued reviews truly amaze and excite me, and they are always welcome and helpful! I apologise again for the wait, and I'll definitely try to get more writing in during my "free" time (wonderful concept, that is ;P ). For now though, please enjoy this chapter!**

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"Doyle," came the low growl from deep within Maura's chest. Her eyes had widened in fury, and her lips were pulled back to bare her teeth in a manner completely uncharacteristic of the usually collected and civilised Medical Examiner. Clenching the phone tightly in her hand and crinkling her nose in aggression, Maura continued, "Appreciated? What you did to Jane… What you did to her is unforgivable, and I will not rest until I track you down! You are the sickest monster in existence, and it makes me ill to think that I share 50% of your DNA! Although, in this case, having inherited some of your traits may aid me in capturing you and ripping your life to shreds, like you did to Jane!" Maura had to pause in order to regain control of her panting breaths; this gave Paddy Doyle the opening to get a few words in.

"I'm your father, Maura. You seemed to remember that just fine when Jane shot me and you spent 3 days in the hospital with me, refusing to even glance in her direction when she attempted to apologise! I was doing you a favour, teaching her not to wrong you, and you should really thank me for leaving her alive. It's not as easy as you may think, especially when trying to control a bunch of men who would like nothing more than to destroy her completely." Doyle spoke calmly throughout, and not once did his voice reflect even a hint of remorse for what he had done. In fact, he sounded conceited and proud!

Maura had clutched her abdomen with her right hand, curling it into a tight fist while trying to soothe her roiling intestines and prevent them from spewing their contents. She was about to be physically sick, unable to fathom how someone to whom she was related could be so heartless and ruthless. She sucked in a breath, and said tremulously, "I hate you… I HATE you! You are not, and NEVER will be, my father! You may have left Jane alive, but you broke her! You broke the woman that I love, and I hope – I pray – that you rot in hell for what you've done!" With that said, Maura tapped the "end call" button on her phone and then pressed her fist to her trembling mouth. She tried to hold back the sobs that were trying to claw their way up her throat, but it was a losing battle. The first sob burst from her lips with a force that dropped her to her knees; she bent double, extending her free hand to stabilise herself on the ground.

_Am I just like him? _Maura thought to herself. _Am I a monster like him? I hurt Jane just as much as he did! If I hadn't ignored her – if I hadn't turned my back on the best thing that has ever happened to me in exchange for the ideal image of a father that I so desired – none of this would have happened._ Each thought cut into her deeper than the one before, and the sobs became silent as they increased in strength – her whole body was heaving, and her bent head hid her tightly clenched eyes.

Suddenly, there was a soft touch on her shuddering shoulder, and she jumped as she jerked her head upwards to face the perceived attacker. Instead of Doyle or one of his brutes, however, was the concerned face of the detective she loved more than anything. "Maur," Jane said simply, conveying all her love and worry with that single word – the name was a caress; a promise; a prayer. "Oh Jane!" the honey blonde cried out, falling into the arms that had been opened for her. They immediately tightened around her, and Maura was pulled even closer into the warm, solid body; she buried her face in the detective's neck and, just when she thought she didn't have any more tears to cry, she began to weep again.

Jane could feel the wetness on her neck, and she closed her eyes as she stroked Maura's back in a show of comfort. She had been heading upstairs to have a shower when she had heard Maura's phone ringing. Thinking that it was probably her mother asking to come over, Jane had turned around with the intention of telling the doctor to dodge any visits from her family and BPD friends. She was on the last step when she heard Maura say Doyle's name, and she froze in terror. Her heart rate began to gallop as her breathing became laboured, and she tried to get herself to move, to go back upstairs where she would be safe from whatever was said. But she continued to stand there – as though in quicksand – and she heard all of what Maura said to her fa- Paddy Doyle; she heard Maura refer to her as the woman she loves, and also heard when she rejected any familial ties with the mob boss, and she was proud of her. Proud and sad.

They sat there for a while, just rocking back and forth, until Maura's tears ceased to flow and her breathing evened out. In the newfound silence, they both realised just how similar their position was to when Maura had found Jane in Chicago and, after the detective attacked her, how Maura had held Jane in her safe embrace until she regained control of herself. That the roles had been reversed was not lost on them, and it showed how far Jane had come in such a relatively short time.

Jane pulled Maura back so that they could look each other in the eyes, and she said, "I'm alive, Maur, and I'm getting better. I want to be better for you. I love you." Maura's eyes teared up again, but she wiped at them quickly to prevent another torrent; nothing could keep her from saying the words that she meant with everything she was: "I love you too, Jane. So much! Don't only get better for me; do it for yourself. You're the strongest person I know." They both had watery smiles on their faces, and they leaned their foreheads together. They were breathing the same air, and they could feel each warm breath fluttering against their cheeks.

They drew their faces even closer together, their lips searching for contact, when there was a loud pounding on the door. "Jane! Maura! Someone had better open up before I break down this damned door! Frankie, break it down." They both groaned, this time in good humour however, and the smiles returned to their faces. Jane hadn't been ready to deal with her family and friends not even an hour ago, but after hugging Maura and so reminding herself that she had everything she had ever needed, she was now ready: ready to face them… And ready to track Doyle down.

"You see, Ma, you don't need to break the door down when you have the key!" Frankie's exasperated voice boomed from the entrance to Maura's house, and both ladies let out a chuckle at the Rizzoli family antics. Maura felt a burst of happiness at Jane's laughter and how she seemed to be taking this invasion and upcoming confrontation in stride; they both stood up from their position on the floor, but remained with their hands clasped together as they turned to face the people who meant so much to the both of them.

Angela and Frankie were greeted by the sight of the women holding hands and standing close together, seemingly supporting each other both physically and emotionally; they both ignored the tell-tale redness of the doctor's eyes, and unleashed blinding smiles in response to Jane's raised eyebrows. "Janey!" the Rizzoli matriarch called out, taking a huge step towards her baby and extending her arms. She was held back by Frankie's hand on her shoulder, however, and she turned to him in annoyance with a questioning expression on her face. In response, Jane brother said, "You know we spoke about your over-bearing ways, Ma, so don't give me that look." Angela's annoyance quickly turned to joy though, as her daughter's soft laughter at her brother's admonishment reached her ears.

"Don't forget that I got stretch marks for you, young man," Mama Rizzoli said with a mock-threatening tone, causing matching grins on her children's faces – Jane, Frankie… And Maura; they were all her children, and her life. Choosing to let Jane come to her, so that she wouldn't feel too overwhelmed, Angela merely spread her arms wide in offering. There was only a slight hesitation before the detective let go of Maura's hand after giving it a squeeze and stepping into her mother's embrace. The comfort that she found in that maternal hug was something that had always managed to soothe and strengthen her, and she buried her face in her mother's bosom, as she had when she was a child. Angela's sniffling was the only prelude to another pair of strong arms – Frankie's – coming around the both of them, and Jane couldn't help but feel loved and cared for amidst the embrace.

"Hey, Maura, are you just gonna stand there?" Frankie asked with humour; seeing the positive changes in his sister he couldn't remain angry at the doctor, and his voice and eyes conveyed both apology and acceptance to the hesitating ME. Immediately, another pair of arms, these more slender and bringing with them the citrus scent Jane associated with her love, joined the huddle. They stood there for barely a minute before the teary Angela broke the embrace with her usual flare for the dramatic, bringing a long-missing levity and comfort to the family's interactions. "Alright, alright kids, you're suffocating an old woman here! I'm not as young as I used to be! And Jane, your grumbling stomach needs to be tamed before it eats us all! You'd think I had taught my kids to feed themselves better!" The last part was said from the kitchen as Angela opened the fridge and started extracting numerous ingredients for the meal she was obviously going to prepare.

"You wanna watch some baseball, sis? There should be highlights from last night's game," Frankie asked Jane, who had returned her hand to that of the doctor. The officer couldn't help the grin when he saw how they clung together, as though they were halves of a whole. _Well, finally! _He thought to himself. _I thought I was gonna have to spell it out for them!_ He was so happy that his sister was looking so much better, and that the women before him had both realised that they were in love and made for each other; everyone else had known that fact for a long time! "Yeah, that'd be nice, bro. I haven't had much opportunity to watch much of anything," Jane replied with a small self-deprecating smile.

Maura stroked her hand down the brunette's back, having noticed her slip into a more subdued state. Their eyes met briefly, but that's all that was needed for the ME to transfer her strength into the detective. She then proceeded to ask, "Can I bring you something to drink, Frankie?" "Definitely some beer! It's not the same without a nice cold one!" came the immediate answer. Almost simultaneously, however, the police officer realised his slip-up; he knew that Jane was struggling with many things, alcohol being one of them. He could've slapped himself for not thinking! It was a trait he had inherited from his mother. "Actually, Maura, I'm kinda feeling for some juice. Orange if you have any." The honey-blonde looked at him with gratitude, reminded yet again how much the Rizzoli siblings cared for each other.

"And you Jane?" she asked, looking at her love tenderly. Realising that the constant ache she felt for the oblivion that alcohol provided had reared up within her, Jane had held her breath in an attempt to push her need for the mind-altering liquid back. Facing two concerned faces and drawing from them the determination she needed to fight her addiction, she nodded at Maura's question. "Yeah, yeah some orange juice would be pretty nice," she said softly, only a hint of longing escaping.

They had all been watching the highlights for 20 minutes, Frankie commenting constantly in an attempt at normalcy, when Angela's voice came from the kitchen: "Dinner's ready, kids! Frankie, make yourself useful and set the table for 6! Vince and Barry are coming over!" Frankie grumbled something good-naturedly but hastened to carry out his mother's orders (no-one messed with an Italian mom), while Jane and Maura remained pressed together on the couch.

"Are you alright, Jane?" the doctor asked while taking the slightly pale face between her hands. She brushed her lips lightly against the parted ones before her, and then drew back and lifted her eyebrows, waiting for a response. Jane softened her tense features, not having realised that they were causing people to worry, and cupped Maura's cheek. "I'm fine, Maur. Just getting used to being around so many other people again. I'm fine." They held their gaze for a few more moments before the spell was broken by the call for dinner. They made their way to the living room and saw that Korsak and Frost had already arrived and were looking at the food like ravenous lions. Hearing the footsteps entering the room, however, pulled their intense concentration from the lasagne before them to the women at the door.

They immediately jumped up but, once on their feet, they didn't know what to do: they didn't want to make Jane uncomfortable. Their partner and protégé put their minds to rest by stepping around the table towards them and giving them both a hug and a kiss on the cheek; they were stunned and only broke out of the haze when Jane queried, "Are you two going to stand there all day or can we actually eat?" They both guffawed and promptly sat down to their already full plates; Angela knew them all perfectly.

The dinner was a light and pleasant affair, filled with banter and a few anecdotes from cases the detectives had worked in Jane's absence. They tried to keep things as normal as possible for the duration of the meal, putting Jane at ease and allowing her to be re-introduced into the family from whom she had run away. They all stuffed their faces, groaning in discomfort as they clutched their overfilled bellies and leaning back to take the pressure off their lungs.

It had all been wonderful, and just as it had been… Before. Before warehouse, before Doyle. The determination that Jane had regained earlier was what shattered the playful atmosphere and brought them all back to the present – reality. She was ready to find the cause of her nightmares; she was ready to be well. And so she asked, "Any news on Doyle?" This question caused an instant hush as they collectively held their breaths; realising that Jane wasn't about to break down, they all exhaled simultaneously. They recognised the look on the detective's face: the look she wore when she was on the trail of a criminal; the look that said '_I'm not stopping until justice has been served'_.

Frost took charge of the situation, starting to explain, "Well, Dr Isles told you what happened with my CI and the message that Doyle sent. So I didn't want to put them in any more danger. But you have some real fans out there, partner. Rondo rounded up some of his buddies and they've been keeping their ears to the ground and their noses sniffing for any of the shit that Doyle would get involved in. I spoke to Rondo last night, and he told me he would have some real news for me soon… He sounded pretty sure that we were getting really close and that Doyle wouldn't know what hit him." Korsak took over, and he continued, "We're keeping this all on the down-low, Janey, but we'll have him soon. And ain't none of us gonna rest until that bastard is behind bars with all his men! Now that you and the doc are back, we have an even better chance of that happening… And maybe Dr Isles, you can keep him away from Jane after we've arrested him; keep him from seeking any more retribution. Despite being a monster, he does care about you."

Jane took all the information in, each statement brightening the fire in her eyes. "I'm back, guys, and we're going to get him together. He's done having a hold on me; and he's done hurting innocent people… And Maura."

Everyone had left, and Jane and Maura were currently in the ME's room getting ready for bed. The blonde was in the bathroom, brushing her teeth and removing her make-up, while Jane had quickly pulled on some sweatpants and a T-shirt. She was sitting on the bed, nervously plucking at her clothes as she waited for the doctor to join her. In Chicago they had slept together for a few nights, enveloped by each other's presence; their relationship had begun to shift from then, as they took physical comfort in each other's presence. But now they were back home, and Jane was unsure if their relationship would revert back to how it had been. She knew that they had shared kisses and words of love, but still she was hesitant to believe that something so wonderful was not just temporary.

Maura had always been bad with social cues and understanding the emotions of others but, when she entered her bedroom to see Jane sitting uncomfortably on her bed, she knew immediately just what the other woman was thinking. Without saying a word, she went and laid down on her side of the bed; she stretched her arm to brush a hand down the detective's back and felt her stiffen briefly before slumping slightly. "Jane?" she asked softly. "Come here." Jane released the breath she hadn't known she was holding and turned to lie down on her back, a small distance between the women; she didn't want to assume anything.

"Come here, Jane," Maura repeated, this time punctuating her sentence by pulling Jane bodily towards her, and then turning to curl intimately into her side. They fit together perfectly, and they both sighed in contentment when the brunette also turned onto her side so that they faced each other, while laying in each other's arms. "I love you, Jane," Maura stated surely, causing any remaining tension to leach from Jane's body completely. Never before had the detective been more comfortable with someone in her bed, not even Casey. Sure, she had never been in a relationship with another woman, but she felt not even a niggling of doubt or fear that things were not supposed to be this way; everything was perfect.

Their lips met without hesitation, and with their tongues they conveyed all the emotions they felt - all the love. In Maura's arms, everything was perfect.

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**Thanks for reading! :) There should be an update by next week, when Doyle will make an appearance in the flesh. The story is drawing closer to the end, and I hope you're all enjoying the ride! Keep well!**


	21. Chapter 20

**Unfortunately, the prompt update I had promised wasn't fulfilled… I'm very sorry about that! Within the next 2 weeks I'll be finished with my surgical rotation, so I'll have more time for this story… And possibly begin on another! Thank you to the regulars for your reviews and positive words, and thank you to the new people who have followed and favourited! This is a shorter chapter with some smut to lighten the atmosphere (or not); we'll get back to Doyle's take-down in the next chapter. Nearly there! Let's get on with it!**

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Both women breathed a loud sigh of relief as they watched the cars pulling out of the driveway. Dinner had been both light-hearted – as all Rizzoli dinners were – but serious too, and Jane's enquiry into the Doyle situation was an indication of her continuing recovery. They were all humbled by the strength and determination that Jane exuded, and the image of the broken, injured and terrified woman they carried with them from the days of her hospital stay and the weeks after was replaced with the image of a proud, powerful detective ready to wrest back control of her life. Angela, Frankie, Frost and Korsak all left with a smile on their face and hope in their hearts – it seemed that things would be fine, in the end. So long as the true Jane – the one that had become the first female homicide detective; the one who had shot through herself to end the standoff between Bobby Marino and the BPD officers in order to save her brother and Maura – was back, there was nothing that could prevent justice from prevailing. When Jane was around, it always did!

The detective shut the front door after having waved the guests off, and turned around with the intention of finding Maura. The ME was directly behind her, causing a flash of fear and panic that Jane quickly stifled. The honey-blonde stood there – stone-still and as beautiful as any sculpture by the artists of old – and stared at Jane. The brunette was momentarily confused by the unwavering attention… But then she looked into Maura's eyes. The hazel had darkened into a greenish hue, and her pupils had enlarged, nearly obscuring the irises; never had Jane been confronted with a look filled with such love and lust.

With 2 steps Jane had her arms around the smaller woman, and their lips met fiercely. Jane's arms clutched Maura's feminine hips, while the doctor's arms wound around her neck. Mouths opened hungrily and their tongues were quick to enter and explore the warm, wet cavity; they duelled, pushing against each other, until Maura yielded – not out of weakness, but rather out of a desire to taste the detective's tongue more thoroughly – and Jane's tongue was enveloped by soft, moist lips as she thrust inside Maura's mouth. They both moaned at the contact.

Jane's hands moved downwards to grasp the ME's buttocks and pull her even tighter against herself, and she moved her leg between those of the blonde; Maura's core – already exceedingly wet – dribbled fluid into her panties. She jerked her hips as the strong thigh pressed against the apex of her legs, and clutched desperately at the back of Jane's shirt. Both pulled back slightly to take a breath, lest they forget this vital function as they became lost in each other. Their eyes met, and closed their swollen, parted lips as they swallowed thickly.

"Are you sure about this, Jane?" Maura husked after catching her breath sufficiently to allow speech. Their position hadn't changed, yet this question brought them infinitely closer. That Maura still thought of Jane's wellbeing even when caught up in this frenzy of desire, nearly brought tears to the detective's eyes. But she had cried enough. Now was a time for new beginnings, a time when past pains could be healed, and Jane was honoured and awed that Maura would choose to begin this journey with her.

There was no question of what Jane's response would be: "I've never been more sure of anything in my life, Maur. I love you, and both my heart and my body are yours." Maura, less able to control her lachrymal glands and the effect of her amygdala on them, let a few tears escape. What she had felt for Garrett and even for Ian, was not love; nothing she had experienced before even came close to the feelings she had for Jane. Although she did not believe in any god, Maura thanked the universe for bringing her together with this amazing woman in her embrace.

Jane kissed the few tears that had trickled down the doctor's cheeks; she kissed her eyes, her nose, and finally, her mouth. This time, the kiss was gentle yet no less passionate than before. With the joining of their mouths they felt their souls coming together, and their tongues – pilgrims in a land yet to be explored – took the time to discover the wonders of this new experience. Their lips danced softly together, moving to a tune of their own design. Maura's hands trailed down the detective's clothed back, and she yanked the shirt free of the jeans. Desperate to feel skin, she quickly moved below the brunette's clothing to trail her hand up the scalloped spin; Maura thought fleetingly that Jane was still a little thin, but she was summarily distracted from these thoughts by the tongue that was tracing the pulse in her neck.

"Bedroom, now," Jane growled into Maura's neck, and stepped back while grabbing the hand behind her. Without another word, they basically ran into the master bedroom and slammed the door shut. They stared at each other for a moment, both unable to believe that they had finally reached this point; there was no time to be nervous or uncertain, neither having slept with a woman before, as Jane took a step towards her soon-to-be lover. She put her hands on the doctor's shoulders, then moved downwards over the front of her torso. Encountering the gentle mound of Maura's breast, Jane gently pinched the nipples that had pebbled through the thin fabric; she was immediately met with a moan, as Maura threw her head back. But Jane continued her journey downwards and reached the hem of the doctor's blouse; at the same maddening speed with which she had travelled downwards, she now moved up while taking the blouse with her.

The red bra that had been revealed, encasing creamy breasts, caused saliva to gush into Jane's mouth… And a gush further down. She trailed a finger over the cleavage not hidden, and then reached behind the doctor to unsnap the bra. The sight of rosy-brown nipples – hard in anticipation – caused Jane's eyes to widen. "Beautiful," she whispered, seemingly to herself, as she took the globes into her scarred hands; they fit perfectly. Lifting them up slightly to feel their ample weight, she moved her mouth quickly to encase one of the nipples standing at attention; if possible, it hardened even more. Swirling her tongue around the areola and tweaking the other nipple with her hands, Jane elicited another series of moans… Some of them her own. It was like satin in her mouth, and she felt like a rich merchant as she sampled the goods before her. She switched to the other breast, not wanting it to feel neglected, and took her time to lave it thoroughly.

Soon enough, Jane's mouth and tongue blazed a path from Maura's breast down to her navel, where the detective used her tongue to reach deep inside. She reached the exceedingly soft skin of Maura's lower abdomen, just above the skirt that hid the treasure Jane was desperate to find. The detective opened the zip of the skirt and hastily removed the offending article of clothing. She stopped to stare in awe; rising to her feet and stepping back slightly, Jane took in the sight of the perfection before her. The indescribably beautiful doctor stood in just a pair of red lace panties, and she didn't shift self-consciously as the nearly black eyes raked down her body. Without warning, Maura was grabbed around the hips and led backwards towards the bed, falling down onto the mattress as her knees met the edge.

Realising that her detective was still fully clothed as she lay sprawled nearly completely naked, Maura managed to say, "You're wearing too much, Jane. Undress." Jane merely smiled in acknowledgment but ignored the blonde's suggestion. Maura's feet were on the ground while the rest of her body lay back; Jane removed the lace panties, appreciating the scent with which they had been imbued, and tossed them away. The brunette parted the doctor's legs and trailed her fingers up the inside of her thighs, growing heady with the smell of Maura's arousal. The ME gasped as she felt the hands getting ever closer to her centre, and opened her legs wider still to accommodate Jane, who had by now knelt between them.

Maura jerked and sprang up as she felt the tongue touch her labia, and then trace up and down on each mound alongside her vulva; Jane's hands firmly pushed down on the doctor's abdomen, and the blonde reclined onto her elbows in order to see the head between her legs. She had never seen anything more erotic. Tongue met slick folds, and Jane took a moment to appreciate the tangy juices; she hummed in approval. Jane's tongue circled the doctor's opening, and Maura's panting became even more laboured as the anticipation reached a crescendo. Finally, oh finally, Jane was in! She pushed her tongue as deeply into the honey-blonde's vagina as she could reach, her nose coming to rest on the hooded clitoris. Maura couldn't help the gasped "_oh"_ that escaped, and neither could she stop the shiver when Jane's tongue withdrew and was replaced by two fingers.

Using her free hand, the detective pulled back the protective covering over the throbbing bundle of nerves, and promptly sucked it into her mouth. Maura's moans were nearly continuous now, growing louder in volume with each second that passed. When Jane used her teeth to bite lightly on the hardened nub, the doctor came undone. The climax was beyond anything she had ever experienced, and she felt her juices gush out into Jane's palm. But Jane continued to suck; and Maura had another orgasm, and then another, until she had to push the head away.

The brunette stood up quickly, her face glistening and fluid dripping down her chin, and ripped off all her clothes before joining Maura on the bed. The ME moved back so that she was entirely on the mattress and took in Jane's lithe, muscular form. _What a perfect specimen,_ she thought, and then pulled Jane's face towards her. She trembled when their lips met heatedly and she tasted herself, and then proceeded to lick her lover's chin clean. Unable to wait any longer, Maura reached between the bodies in search of the wet heat between Jane's thighs. She found it, and wasn't disappointed: Jane was drenched, and her clitoris felt hard under the doctor's fingers. She pushed her fingers through the folds and then into her opening. She started with two fingers, but as the detective began to rock, she added another. So focused was she on the wet flesh hugging her fingers, that she jerked in surprise when she felt two fingers penetrating her own vagina. They set a hard pace, their fingers pumping in and out with caring aggression. When their orgasms came, they were both rendered incapable of breath or thought. They came together, and in that moment they felt as one; they were connected in every way conceivable.

They gradually descended from the pinnacle they had reached, and opened their eyes to take in the contented smiles that stretched both their faces. "Amazing," they said together. Maura moved even closer and nestled her head beneath Jane's chin, the doctor's hands trapped between their bodies. Moving them up slightly, she encountered the bottom of the detective's breasts; she had to taste them! And with that thought, another round of lovemaking began – a prelude to a night full of passion and the promise of a bright and hopeful future.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed that, everyone! I've never written a sex scene before, so I gave it a try… Thank you all for reading, and see you next time!**


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